


First Gentleman Wanted

by youaresunlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art By Marietwist, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other: See Story Notes, Political AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8712922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: President of the United States Castiel Novak is popular, charismatic, and knee-deep in campaigning for a second term. He’d be the ideal candidate if it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t dated once while in political office. With his opponent’s relentless PR team calling him incapable of emotional commitment, Castiel’s staff decides to remedy the situation by finding their boss a fake, picture-perfect boyfriend. And when Dean Winchester enters the scene, he and Cas become America’s new favorite couple, except they’ve got a whole lot of history between them and complicated feelings to resolve.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you for your patience regarding the delayed posting of this DCBB! Grad school has taken over my life, but better late than never, as they say. That being said, I'm so excited to be sharing my first political AU! I've been wanting to write President!Cas for a pretty long time, and this year, it finally happened.
> 
> Thank you [Maria](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/), my wonderful artist, for working with me through hectic schedules and switch-arounds. I was elated when you chose my fic - and I still am to be sharing your work! I can't wait for readers to see it because it's marvelous and perfect for this story.
> 
> Thank you R, my best friend and beta, for being there for me once again. You gave me the encouragement to finish this project and I'm always very grateful. Love you lots!
> 
> Thank you to Corinne for your help with the Spanish, and to Ana for loving president!Cas so much. Last but not least, thank you so, so much to everyone who reads my writing and supports my work. ♥
> 
> Disclaimer: As I mentioned already, writing a political AU has been on my to-do list for a few years now. That being said, this piece is fiction and not intended to be commentary on reality. Although most of the places in this fic are real and I borrowed the dates for the campaign timeline, I did not write this fic to be accurate. I wrote it because writing fiction is my happy place. :)

 

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 _“Castiel” and “Novak” redirect here. For other uses of “Castiel,” see_ Castiel (disambiguation) _. For other uses of “Novak” see_ Novak (disambiguation) _. For the Novak political family, see_ Novak family _._

 **Castiel James Novak** (born July 10, 1973) is the 45th and current President of the United States. He is the first openly gay man to hold the office and the second-youngest president (after Theodore Roosevelt). Born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, he is the fourth son of former senator Naomi Novak. His eldest brother Michael Novak (b. 1964) is currently in his second term as the governor of Massachusetts, while Luke Novak (b. 1968) and Gabriel Novak (b. 1971) have pursued careers in medicine and entertainment law, respectively.

Novak graduated magna cum laude from Dartmouth College and received his J.D. from Harvard Law School in 1998, after which he became a member of the U.S. House of Representatives and served Massachusetts’ 8th congressional district. He ran successfully for the Massachusetts Senate against incumbent Zachariah Adler six years later, and during his two, subsequent terms gained national attention for his work on LGBT rights.

As his predecessor Barack Obama had done four years prior, Novak was thrust into the media spotlight for his keynote address at the 2008 Democratic National Convention. By this point, he had accrued significant popularity, especially among the 18-29 and 30-44 age brackets. He began his presidential campaign in 2011 and received the Democratic nomination in 2012. Novak defeated Republican nominee Raphael Finnerman in the general election and was sworn in on January 20, 2013. He continued to support established domestic initiatives from the Obama administration, including the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act and the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell Repeal Act of 2010. The Novak administration is perhaps most notable for the rejection of the Dickey Amendment from the spending bill, thus allocating (for the first time since 1996) federal funds for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to conduct firearms research to address gun violence.

On April 4, 2015, Novak announced his reelection campaign for 2016. He later secured the 2,778 convention delegates required to win the Democratic nomination. At the national convention in Philadelphia, Novak and Joanna Harvelle were formally nominated by former president Barack Obama. He is currently running against Republican nominee and food industry tycoon Richard Roman, who has recently called into question Novak’s sustained bachelorhood. The first single president since James Buchanan, Novak has attributed his choices to a hectic, mobile lifestyle. Novak is known to have not dated anyone since his entrance into public life.

 

 

**August 1, 2016 – Rosalind Franklin Elementary School, Arlington, Virginia**

“What’s your name?” Castiel asks, leaning down toward the little girl in pigtails. She has a gold star sticker on the apple of her cheeks, and hides her chirp-like giggles in the palm of one hand.

“Isabel,” she answers shyly, before taking the hand that Cas has offered. “We started first grade today,” she tells him in a whisper as though it’s a secret. 

“I’ve heard,” he nods at her, his expression equally serious. “That’s a very big deal. Are you excited?” His smile broadens when she beams in reply. He squeezes her hand then lets go to walk past her, to a brown-haired boy with a missing bottom tooth. He’s fiddling nervously with a pencil, which he only releases to shake Cas’ hand, and Cas takes a moment to crouch down beside him. “I lost my first tooth the day before school.”

The boy’s eyes widen in curiosity. “You did?”

“Yes, the same one as yours. You can see it in my first grade picture.” Cas chuckles at the memory of it, at his neatly pressed uniform and the gap in his smile. “It was actually kind of cool to be the first one in my class to lose a tooth. I could tell my friends it’s not anything scary, just a part of growing up and becoming stronger.”

The boy’s demeanor turns to one of pride as he sits up straighter with a confident grin. “My brother told me I was really, really brave. He gave me _two whole_ scoops of ice cream for dessert.”

Castiel smiles. “How old is your brother?”

“Almost twelve. He’s in middle school.” The way he lights up while talking about his brother strikes a chord in Castiel’s heart. But he brushes it off quickly and pats the boy’s shoulder, burying the delicate pang of nostalgia.

He talks to every student as he weaves around the room, learns the names of their kittens and Barbie dolls and in one special case, a family of geckos. To each of the sisters in a pair of twins, he teases, “Wait a second, didn’t I just see you over there?” He meets with the teacher, a kind-eyed woman with a gentle voice and a passion for science. When the children gather around the armchair by the window, he reads _Oh, the Places You’ll Go!_ aloud cover to cover. 

He visits two more classrooms and departs before lunch, after stopping by a music class and singing “Over the Rainbow” with twenty fourth graders. At fifteen to eleven sharp, Bela catches his elbow to guide him out. Cas leaves in a chorus of ‘goodbye, Mr. President’s and enthusiastic waves that he gladly returns. The walk to the motorcade is riddled with flashes and the sound of cameras like hummingbird wings, though by the time they reach the vehicles, the area is empty save for Cas and his staff.

“How was it?” Charlie asks, already seated, having arrived with the car. She has a phone in her hand and tablet in her lap, each open to separate social media sites.

Bela slides in across from her. “No issues. The students loved him. Photos are being sent to you for approval.”

“Perfect,” Charlie nods, then turns to Cas. “How were the kids?” She fishes around in the compartment beside her and holds out a value size jar of Purell.

“Adorable as always, and I washed my hands before we left. I’m fine, it isn’t flu season yet.” 

“It _is_ at an elementary school. That entire place is a cesspool of germs.” 

Castiel sighs and lets her squirt some on his hands. “Didn’t you want a meeting on our way to Washington?” 

“Yup,” she crosses her legs and reaches for the tablet in lieu of her phone. She wakes it up with an efficient tap. “We have another op-ed about why you’re single.” 

Cas tilts his head back till it hits the leather. “I thought you didn’t care about the gossip rags.” 

“My job is to read everything. I’m just apathetic to tabloid trash. But everything changes when _The Times_ asks questions that we only have vague answers to.”

“My answers have never been vague. I don’t have a boyfriend because my schedule’s insane and there’s nothing _vague_ about why I’m too busy.”

“Hey, no need to get snippy with me, Cas. You’re preaching to the choir, alright? I could probably recite your schedule off the top of my head and I’m very aware that you rarely have downtime.” Charlie pauses to sip her Kombucha, which might be her second or third one today. It’s peach with candied ginger and Cas is tempted to ask her for one. “People just need to categorize,” Charlie shuts off the tablet and sets it between them, “and when you don’t fit into their neat little boxes, they find it difficult to trust the rest of you. Like being different invalidates you somehow… Believe me, I’d change it if I could.”

There are dark circles beneath her green eyes and her shoulders slump in obvious dejection. Cas places a hand on her arm without a word before looking at Bela, who’s been silently listening this whole time. “Let’s chat at headquarters,” she tells them both, which prompts Cas to nod and peer out his window at the passing line of trees, lush and vibrant. They remind him of a simpler time, of a summer filled with sunsets and aimless drives. His own hand relaxed against the console and another curled around it, warm and secure.

 

 

“So, what’s their angle?” Bela asks, two hours later in Washington. They’ve changed and reconvened in one of the conference rooms, seated around an imposing table.

“That Cas is an automaton. That he’s all celebrity with no genuine emotions.” Charlie clicks a couple times on her rose gold MacBook. “I just forwarded the article to all of you.”

Cas frowns then sinks back in his chair. His exhaustion’s bone-deep and he’s sleep-deprived. “If I were a robot, I wouldn’t be this tired,” he reaches for the coffee in his twenty-ounce tumbler.

“Exactly how far could they take the argument before running into media proving otherwise?” Hannah skims the printed coverage from Rosalind Franklin while stirring two packets of sugar into her coffee. “Charlie, you of all people must know how well we’re doing on social media and with our supporters.”

Charlie nods as she slightly leans forward, resting both of her elbows on the shiny cherrywood. “I do know. I run the damn thing. Cas is a _darling_ , has been from day one. But it’s not a ‘who gives a shit’ kind of situation anymore. This is _all_ Roman’s team is gonna talk about, and it’s time we did give a shit.”

“We _have_ ,” Kevin counters gently. “We’ve heard this rhetoric for the past eight years.”

“Yeah, but not from Roman. The guy is aggressive. We need a plan.” This is followed by some back and forth on how much of their attention this issue would warrant. “Come on, you know how many people Cas pissed off last year with the Dickey Amendment getting taken out. There were on-the-fence liberals included in that group and those are the voters Roman will target. Yes, the attacks are preposterous. Like, Castiel Novak hasn’t dated anyone. He lacks virility and testosterone and machismo; no _wonder_ he took away our guns! He doesn’t man spread or sleep with anybody. Is he even gay? Is he asexual? They can twist it a thousand ways and I don’t want our campaign to suffer for it.”

The room falls silent with strained discomfort and the aides begin to squirm while staring at each other. Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose. He’d had a feeling he’d address this one day. “What would be the plan?” he asks his team, their heads whipping toward him as soon as he does.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Charlie says softly.

“Try me,” he keeps his gaze steady.

“Alright,” she twirls her pen, a royal blue pinwheel at the tip of her fingers. “You need to date but not casually. I mean, obviously, right? We’re too busy for that. It needs to be serious but sexy so that the media will go nuts over _any_ coverage. It needs to be photogenic and genuine enough for the public to believe it. They’ll definitely call our bluff otherwise.”

Kevin opens his mouth like he’s about interject, but Cas politely lifts his hand before anyone speaks. “So, by a seemingly genuine relationship, you mean…”

“We’ll have to find you a fake boyfriend, Cas.”

“Where?” a voice blurts out, belonging to an aide at the side of the room. It takes Cas a second to find him in the space – a young, fresh face with sky blue eyes. “Sorry,” the boy blushes pink, clutching his notebook to his chest like a lifeline. What was his name… something with an A. Andrew. Alex. Al. _Alfie_.

“No, Alfie, it’s a valid question,” Castiel smiles to help ease those nerves. The boy is practically beaming by the time Cas redirects the question to Charlie. “I assume you have an idea of where I’ll find this ideal boyfriend.”

Charlie shrugs with a quirk of her lips. “I wouldn’t have suggested it had I not done the research.”

“Do you think it’s worth it?” Kevin asks, pausing unsurely at Charlie’s huff. “I mean, _all_ of the media training? The babysitting and liability?”

“What are you, new? That’s already our life, and it’ll be that way for the next hundred days. I don’t want to see the work he’s done for the past four years to be overshadowed by some hideous mudslinging. This would be a pathetic thing to lose voters over and it happens to be a problem we can fix.” Charlie squares her shoulders for a counterargument, but there’s ultimately none from the rest of the team – and only then does she turn to Cas, her lines relaxing to an impish smile. “So, do we have a green light?”

There’s scattered laughter around the room and the tension breaks, albeit cautiously. Castiel huffs and extends his arm, drumming his fingers on the cool, polished wood. “You sound like you already know the answer,” he regards his friend in resignation. She merely shrugs without bothering to correct him. Charlie’s nothing if not a bit sneaky.

“So, ah, Cas, what’s your type?” Kevin asks, which is met with louder, surprised bursts of laughter. “What, did I do something wrong?” He dodges a wad of paper Bela throws at his head. “Hey!”

“Kevin’s right, be sure to tell me,” Charlie leans forward with a sheepish expression. “You’re gonna be spending a lot of time with whomever we find, so be specific. Looks, personality, everything.”

Cas touches his wrist as he mulls this over, a thin strap of leather that’s worn at its edges, a sharp recollection of sun-kissed skin and a crooked smile that turned his world upside down.

 

 

**June 14, 1989 – Honeybee Boardwalk, Lawrence, Kansas**

He can see the glimpses of orange hues in the sky but Cas has no intention of heading home just yet. Neither his uncle nor his aunt would be there anyhow, and all the staff ever does is tiptoe around him. He did stop to chat with the groundskeeper, a genial man in his thirties named Javier, who’d immigrated with his wife Alma from Tegucigalpa four years ago and has been employed on the estate ever since. 

Castiel’s Spanish is somewhat rusty, though Javier is patient with his tempo and word choice. Before Castiel leaves to head into town, Javier invites him to lunch the next day. He points at the cottage behind the main house and says Alma makes the best pastelitos in the world. “No te la querrás perder.” _You don’t want to miss it_. Javier grins and Cas promises to be there, grateful to be treated like somebody normal.

Once he steps beyond his uncle’s property, Cas lets his feet do most of the steering. He keeps the lake to his left as reference and feels more free than he has in a while. There’s something liberating about the fact that everyone he passes is a total stranger, that he’s not at a dinner or a fundraiser where people have known him since he was a child.

He finally stops about twenty minutes later, by a large wooden sign that catches his eye. _Honeybee Boardwalk_ , it proclaims, all canary yellow letters in a fresh coat of paint. The sign is slightly backlit with the dropping sun while colorful booths line the namesake boardwalk. Even farther ahead is a Ferris wheel, looking out onto the water, reflected within it. The lake is glittering like underwater stars and Castiel watches, absorbing the sight.

“The Ferris wheel’s free in the last half-hour,” comes a voice from his right, gentle but sudden.

Castiel jumps and quickly seeks out the source, breath hitching a little as soon as he finds it.

“Pardon?” he says helplessly.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the boy replies, with an easy shrug and crooked smile. The latter swoops into Cas’ belly, awakening a kaleidoscope of butterflies. “You seemed unsure,” he gestures toward the lights. “Thought I could give you a tip of sorts. I work here. In the summers, anyway. It’s my uncle’s place and I do repairs… But like I said, we’re closing in thirty and the Ferris wheel’s free if you wanna go.”

“Oh,” is all Cas can manage as he takes in the jeans and soft grey tee, a smudge of grease right above the hem. The coiled muscles along the boy’s arms could only be built through labor, and Cas feels small by comparison even though they’re fairly similar in height. “I didn’t- I was only walking by. I just, um- I just flew in two days ago.” He’s normally not one to stammer and bites his lip with both cheeks flushed.

“Two days, huh? You really are new.” The tone is only fond with absence of judgement. “All the more reason to have some fun. You can come back tomorrow for the games and stuff.”

“Are you open every day?”

“Almost, yeah. We’re closed on Wednesdays for maintenance.” He shoves one hand in a front jean pocket and hooks the thumb of his free hand back over his shoulder. “Come on, you’ll get a killer view. I’m Dean, by the way,” he adds with a grin. “What’s your name?” he asks in turn and begins walking backwards, gaze expectant.

Before Cas knows it, he moves to catch up, and hears himself say, “My name is Cas.” 

“Cas,” Dean stops to repeat it, thoughtful like he’s committing it to memory. “It’s cool. Kinda pretty,” he says. “What does it mean? Sounds Biblical.” 

Cas is too busy blushing for a moment. “It’s a variation of Cassiel, the angel of temperance. My mother chose the name with high hopes, although the nickname grants me some leeway.” 

Dean stares at him, mouth slowly parting, and then he laughs, a loud, bright peal. The sound – and how Dean hunches over like Cas is the funniest person he’s ever met – stirs up a warmth in Castiel’s chest that outshines any radiant summer afternoon. He doesn’t get why Dean is this amused, only that _he_ feels lighter because of it, and isn’t that so strange and utterly confounding, given that they met not ten minutes ago. 

Not wishing to dwell on this further, he asks, “Were you named after anyone?”

“My grandma,” Dean replies. “Her name was Deanna, a real firecracker. I like to joke that my mom just loved James Dean, but… Anyway, mine’s not all that special.” 

“That’s not true,” Cas shakes his head. “Your name is special because it’s yours.” 

“I guess,” the boy relents, but not without pink creeping up on his face. 

They continue to walk in comfortable silence, closely enough for their arms to touch. The heat is fading along with the sun but it’s positively molten at their points of contact. And Castiel, torn between pressing back and pulling away, turns his head to glance at Dean only to meet Dean’s eyes as soon as he does. The tension sizzles, strong and palpable, and Cas isn’t sure how to handle himself. 

He’s never felt anything quite like this before… Not even remotely. Not even with past boyfriends.

“Hey,” Dean calls to him softly, making Cas abruptly realize they’ve been staring at each other. “Is this…?” he trails off, seemingly just as lost as Castiel. He really is gorgeous with freckles like stars, dotting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. Castiel wonders if he’ll find constellations, ones he could trace with his fingertips.

“I can be pushy sometimes,” Dean admits, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “If you’d rather go…” 

Cas reaches out, fingers flexing in the cooler evening air. “ _No_ , I… I’m just nervous is all.”

“Yeah?” Dean quirks his lips. “So, that makes two of us.”

When he looks at Cas through his canopy of lashes, it’s like every breath has jumped ship from his lungs, and the sound of his heart thump-thumping in his chest overpowers his quieter voice. “Well, what are we waiting for then?” he asks, suddenly emboldened. That draws another, softer laugh from Dean, a warm thing he tucks away for a rainy day.

 

 

Dean was right to talk up the view; it’s absolutely stunning at the top of the wheel. The lively trees and purple-pink sunset all blend together like a Monet on the lake.

“What do you think?” 

Cas turns from the window, catching Dean’s eye across their compact car. “It’s beautiful,” he replies reverently, though he might be referring to Dean as well. “Thank you for telling me about it.” 

“Any time,” Dean leans against the wall. 

Castiel peers down below once more. “Do you ever get immune to it? The view you have here?” 

“Sure, sunsets can lose some novelty.” Dean pauses thoughtfully. “But not today.” 

The words make the color rise up in Cas’ cheeks. “I bet you say that to everyone.” 

“I don’t, I swear,” Dean shakes his head, and Castiel flushes at the earnestness. The car begins to descend and Cas notices how much smaller the sun looks on the horizon. His fingers curl around the bars above the door while he takes a mental snapshot of the vivid skies. “I haven’t been on a Ferris wheel in a long time,” he admits somewhat absently, party to himself. It isn’t what he’d normally tell a stranger, especially without preamble or any context at all. But in lieu of the understandable confusion, Dean simply looks at him, asks, “How come?” His gaze meets Cas’, deep and attentive, and Cas resists the urge to go sit beside him. 

“I’m at boarding school for most of the year… We don’t get many chances to go off campus.” 

Dean whistles. “Boarding school? Blazers and ties and essays in Latin?” 

He isn’t far off and Castiel laughs. “ _Some_ essays in Latin, but just for one class.” 

“Teach me how to say something in Latin,” Dean says, which gives Cas pause, but only for a second. 

“ _Omnia vincit amor_ ; _et nos cedamus amori_.”

“What does it mean?”

“Love conquers all; let us, too, surrender to love.” 

“Romantic,” Dean drums his fingers. “Do you believe that? Love conquers all?” 

“I’m not sure,” Cas answers honestly. “I’ve never had a reason to believe it before.” He’s fidgeting with the end of sleeve; if his mother saw him now, she’d surely disapprove. His fingers still when he catches Dean following their movement with rapt attention. “How about you?” he chews on his lip. “Was Virgil onto something?” 

Dean chuckles at that. “Yeah, maybe. But I guess I won’t know till I find out myself.” 

There’s that soft, crooked smile again, and Cas feels his pulse react to it. With his heartbeat ringing in his ears, he doesn’t even realize that the wheel has stopped. He hurries out when Dean waves at the door, coming to a halt at the end of the platform. A couple people pass him on their way down the stairs and then Dean is there beside him. “Am I seeing you tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow?” Cas sifts through his schedule, for obligatory dinners or stuffy outings. None come to mind that seem more important than _this_ , so he shrugs and replies, “Yes, I’ll be here.” 

Dean smiles and shifts on his feet. “Okay, good.” It sounds like relief.

They come off the platform and walk toward the entrance, alongside families who are also heading out. “Have a good night, Dean,” Cas says near the gates. “I, um… I had a great time.” 

“Same here. Nice meeting you, Cas.” Dean appears reluctant to see Castiel go. The sentiment is mutual as Cas turns to leave, telling Dean “See you tomorrow” over his shoulder. 

The path home – deep indigo all around him without the sun – feels simultaneously shorter from the flutter in his chest and longer from wishing it were already tomorrow. He marvels at how it’s possible to miss somebody he knows next to nothing about, although he can say without any hesitation that he wants to see Dean again. 

He peeks at his watch then up at the sky, wonders if the stars will come out tonight. He thinks of freckles and warm, green eyes, and carries a smile the rest of his way home.

 

 

The next day is the first time in a while that Cas pays attention to what he wears, since at school, he’s limited to uniforms and, any time else, a preselected wardrobe. He spends a moment considering the Brooks Brothers shirts, the dry-cleaned slacks, the rack of ties – before bypassing them entirely to rummage through his dresser of t-shirts and jeans. He has to dig through a couple of layers to find it but then he feels the worn-in softness on his fingers, and a smile curls into his lips at the green peeking out from between other shirts. Cas puts it on over darker jeans and examines himself in the bathroom mirror. The color reminds him of Dean and how the eyes had lit up with every quirk of his lips.

The house is quiet when he heads down the stairs, which catches him off guard at first. Normally, his aunt has guests to host and entertain but then there’s always a luncheon happening somewhere. It’s for the better that she isn’t home, leaving no one to hover or watch him like a hawk. At the bottom of the stairs, he turns toward the kitchen to use the back door leading out to the gardens. 

“Castiel, honey, where are you going?” 

He smells her floral perfume before he sees her styled hair and cap-sleeve dress.

“I’m going to lunch,” he tells her politely. “Javier invited me yesterday evening.”

“Javier?” she raises an eyebrow, proudly arched and perfectly groomed. When it registers that Cas isn’t kidding she waves her wine glass with a contemptuous laugh. “Oh, sweetie, don’t trouble yourself. I have lunch guests arriving in fifteen minutes.” She takes a sip and gestures at his clothes. “Go ahead and change. You’ve still got time.”

“It’s a prior engagement,” Cas tries to reason. “It would be rude of me to cancel last minute.”

She merely smiles at him like she would with a child. “I’m sure they’ll understand. Now, be presentable. Your mom wanted you to meet the congresswoman joining us today.” 

The retort, the rebellion, is ready to drop from the tip of his tongue. He clenches one fist and wants to run, to escape all his constricting obligations. However, deep down he knows that he has no leverage in this situation. Resistance would only mean an irritated phone call from his mother tomorrow. He casts a worried look in the direction of Javier’s cottage and feels guilt and anger coil in his belly at the thought of Alma preparing a seat at their table for him. He imagines the aroma wafting through their kitchen and the extra plate she’d be filling to serve. 

“ _Castiel_ ,” his aunt says, tone on the cusp of exasperation. 

He turns away to head up the stairs before she can scold him further for his t-shirt and jeans. 

The lunch, as he expected, is filled with flattery and empty small talk that he finds more boring than usual. He responds appropriately when asked about school then returns to eating as quickly as decorum allows. 

“So, Castiel, do you have a girlfriend?” a woman named Caroline asks over her salmon. The shade of her dress below the pearls matches the filet she’s enjoying sedately. “A young man like you at a school like that… Surely, there are a surplus of nice debutantes.” 

Cas tightens the grip on his fork, at the matter-of-fact way she reduces his female classmates to potential wives just waiting for marriage. If they could hear her now, Cas thinks; Lila especially would rip her a new one. He’s about to correct her on ‘girlfriend’ as well when Aunt Rachel says, “Castiel here is at the top of his class. He’s far more focused on his studies and grades than finding a girlfriend. That’ll come later.” 

“That isn’t-” 

“We’re very proud of him,” she cuts him off, giving him a look – a warning – across the table.

The other women around the table chime in with effusive praise, but none of their voices reach Castiel, who is trying his absolute hardest not to get up and leave. He’s certain his aunt must know he isn’t _interested_ in girls. He’d come out to his parents two years ago; no way his mother hadn’t informed her own sister. 

“May I be excused?” he folds his napkin and places it pointedly beside his plate. His aunt wouldn’t try to stop him now, not with her guests still watching them. “I just remembered I have somewhere to be. It was lovely to meet all of you.” 

“Oh, what a doll,” one of them says. “Rachel, let him go spend time with his friends.” 

“Sure,” Aunt Rachel smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Do you need a car? Tom could drive you.” 

“No, I can walk,” Cas pushes in his chair.

“Alright,” she reaches for her wine. “Be careful. Dinner’s at six.” 

Cas has no desire to return for dinner, and he knows she won’t be around anyway. He mirrors her painted-on smile and makes a beeline for his room to get out of his tie. He changes back to his previous outfit and doesn’t bother to tame his ruffled-up hair, is thankful for the chatter that drowns him out as he walks past the dining room and out of the house. 

He finds Javier by the pink and red roses, apologizes profusely for missing their lunch, stares down at the plate that Javier hands him with a shake of his head and a knowing smile. “Don’t worry,” Javier says, noticing the tension in Cas’ shoulders. “We hope you like it,” he gestures at the food and chuckles in surprise when Castiel hugs him. 

“Please tell your wife ‘thank you,’” Castiel says. Javier grins and promises to do so. He also takes another look at Cas’ face and adds, “Diviértete en la cita.” _Have fun on your date_. 

“It’s not-” Castiel turns pink, but Javier laughs and shoos at him to go. “No llegar tarde!” _Don’t be late_ , he says, and Cas feels ridiculous for blushing so hard.

 

 

Only when he steps onto the bustling boardwalk does it occur to Cas that he might be too early. They hadn’t actually agreed on a time and, for all he knows, Dean may not even be here. He sticks the ticket he bought in his pocket and clutches the plate in his hand like a lifeline. Was it presumptuous of him to bring lunch? What if Dean forgot? It’s probably too much. He should’ve just eaten by himself at home and come by later like he weren’t so eager. He should have- 

A hand gently catches his elbow, turning him around to face pretty green eyes. 

“Looking for something?” Dean smiles, and Cas feels the worries dissipate in his mind. 

“Yes, actually…” Cas glances at his hands. The aluminum foil crinkles beneath his fingers. “I was looking for someone to share this with.” 

Dean’s expression lights up and, god, it’s stunning. “I was about to go on my lunch break.” He guides Castiel past the throngs of visitors. “I realized yesterday after you left that we never decided what time to meet.” 

“Right,” Cas lowers his eyes. “I hope it’s okay that I’m a bit early.” 

“I was hoping you’d be,” Dean smiles easily, then gestures to the benches lining the boardwalk. It’s more of a challenge to find an empty one, given the time of day and number of patrons. They end up sharing with a woman and her daughter, who as far as Castiel can see is out like a light in her navy blue stroller. Dean looks on curiously as Cas removes the foil off the paper plate. “That smells amazing. What is it?” he asks. 

“Pastelitos,” Cas replies, nodding for Dean to try one. “It’s fried corn tortilla filled with meat and vegetables.” The tortilla must still be warm because he can hear the crunch when Dean bites through. 

“They’re great. Who made them?” asks Dean. 

“Alma,” Cas says fondly. “Her husband is a caretaker on my uncle’s estate. I was supposed to have lunch with them but… My aunt decided otherwise.” 

Dean catches on to Castiel’s tone and leans in a little closer, frowning in concern. “Sorry, that sucks,” he says empathetically. “That why you’re here early? To get away for a bit?” 

“That’s part of it,” Cas answers honestly. “I also… wanted to see you.” 

Dean’s eyes widen. “Really?” he says, like he can’t believe that Cas would want such a thing. 

Cas finds himself mesmerized by the faint dusting of pink across Dean’s cheeks, but he nods, keeping his gaze, “You also assured me that the games are good, so I’m hoping you’re a man of your word.”                                                           

Dean winks at him playfully. “Yeah, I sure am.” 

After clearing the plate, Dean buys them popsicles from a vendor by the entrance to the Ferris wheel. They get the cherry flavor and bright red lips and Cas can’t help but stare at Dean’s lush mouth. His own still tingle from touching cold ice as they head to the tents with the arcade games. He stops at one with basketball hoops while Dean hands a dollar to a girl named Bree. “You get five tries,” she tells Cas brightly. “If you make all the shots, then you win one of those.” She points above her to a row of gigantic, fluffy bears, one of which has on a big, green bow and Cas feels his competitive side rear its head.

“Oh, I know that face,” Dean takes a step back, teasingly raising both hands in surrender. Bree rolls her eyes, though not unkindly, as she hands Cas the basketballs and moves to the side. 

Dean cheers him on the whole way through, which would make sense if the game were difficult but ends up just being comically over-the-top. Cas supposes the basketballs are purposefully lightweight so they’ll bounce off the plastic rims, but despite Dean continuously making him laugh, all five of his shots go cleanly through the hoop. “I knew it!” Dean says excitedly, draping an arm around Cas’ shoulders. 

Bree stifles a laugh. “Which bear would you like?” 

Cas is sure he’s blushing at the casual contact. “The one with the green bow, please.” The bear is even softer and fuzzier than it looks. “Where to next?” he turns to Dean with his prize held against his chest, only to find Dean already staring, expression fond and almost reverent. “What is it?” Cas bites his lip, both cheeks hurting from smiling so much. 

Dean just grins and shakes his head, taking Cas’ wrist to lead him next door. “How ‘bout a racing game?” he gestures to the booth, and Castiel laughs. 

“Sure. You’re on.” 

As the hour passes by with Dean, the further Cas is drawn to his undeniable charm. Even when they lose the magnetic fishing game spectacularly, they’re too busy laughing to really care at all. Dean wins a leather bracelet in a game of darts where he successfully pops six balloons in a row. It’s nondescript – just a thin cord of leather wrapped around a few times – but it’s simple in a stylish way and Dean hands it over as soon as he wins. 

“A souvenir,” he crinkles his eyes and looks rather proud when Cas slips it on. 

“Thanks,” Cas murmurs softly, tracing the material with his fingertips. 

“You know, I hope you find more reasons to smile.” 

Cas’ eyes dart up. Dean is blushing. “What?” he prompts him slowly, wondering if he’d heard Dean wrong.

“It’s just- You seemed pretty down earlier.” Dean shifts in his spot, hands in his pockets. “So, I hope you have reasons to smile instead… because you look great, um, when you… yeah.” 

Cas can’t find the words to reply right away, not with the flutter in his stomach and chest and the shyness he can see on Dean’s face. But that confession was just so earnest and it compels him to be honest and equally open. And in a moment, a flash of courage, he says, “I found a reason today.” 

He knows he’ll never forget how the other boy’s shoulders relax in relief. How their tentative fingers brush against one another and send tiny sparks traveling back up his arm. They share cotton candy later, blended blue and pink, their hands growing sticky from the flosses of sugar. 

And when Dean kisses him at the end of the night, tucked away in an alcove near the boardwalk entrance, he tastes the sweetness on Dean’s warm lips and wishes that summer would never end.

 

 

**August 8, 2016 – Colt Engineering, Inc., Washington, D.C.**

“Dean?” There’s a knock on his door before Tessa peeks in, coffee in hand. “Your one o’clock is here,” she says cheerily, “and here’s your latte with two espresso shots.” 

“You’re the best,” Dean waves her in, relaxing at the familiar aroma. It’s only after his first cautious sip that he frowns. “Sorry, who am I meeting right now?” 

“She’s an H.R. rep from the firm in Boston. You loved their collaboration proposal.” 

“Right,” Dean blinks, remembering, then straightens his tie and smoothes down his shirt. “How do I look?” 

“Like a million bucks,” Tessa smiles at him as she turns toward the door. “Her name is Celeste Middleton, by the way,” she says, then in a softer voice, “Good luck. You got this.” 

“Thanks,” Dean smiles back warmly and rises from his chair to greet his potential client. 

The woman who walks in is nothing like Dean would have expected – very young, for one, and fiery red hair tied up in a ponytail. Her clothes are professional with a casual air, from the unbuttoned blazer to the ballet flats. He notices a T.A.R.D.I.S. pin fastened to one lapel as he walks around to extend his hand. Her appearance may have thrown him initially but he knows far better than to dwell on it. “Ms. Middleton, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says with his practiced, welcoming tone. 

“Likewise,” she shakes his hand. “And please, you can call me Celeste.” She takes a seat across from him and glances at the view over Dean’s left shoulder. “You’ve got a nice office,” she comments, impressed. “How long have you been working at Colt?” 

“Just over six years,” Dean tells her proudly. “Although it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long.” 

“You were in California before this, correct?” Dean nods affirmatively. “How was adjusting to snow?” 

Dean laughs and spins a frame on his desk, an old photo of him building snowmen with Sam. “I grew up in Kansas, actually, so having _warm_ winters was the bigger adjustment.”

“I’ll bet,” Celeste nods. “I grew up in Chicago myself.” 

“The Windy City,” Dean turns the photo back around. “I’ve been there a few times on business trips.” 

“Is your family still living in Kansas?”

“My mom is. My dad passed away.” 

“I’m sorry,” Celeste says, in a voice much softer than it was before.

“It’s okay,” Dean tries to assure her. “I mean- It happened a long time ago.” He normally doesn’t mention his dad to strangers, but something about Celeste strikes a chord with him. 

“Never really _becomes_ okay, though, does it?” she asks with wide, almost doll-like eyes. A wave of something solemn crosses her expression and if they had been friends, Dean would reach for her hand. 

“No… No, I guess it doesn’t.” He averts his eyes to the photograph again. “But I’m lucky to have my brother. His name is Sam. Pain in my ass.” 

Celeste laughs, just slightly shaky, though Dean has managed to lift her mood. “I wouldn’t know. I’m an only child, but my boss has brothers, so I’ve got an idea.” She touches her fingers to her pin, as if to compose and regroup herself. “What does your brother do, Dean?” 

He wonders at her ability to sound genuinely curious. “Sam’s a lawyer. He lives in Connecticut. Stanford for undergrad, Yale for law.” Dean’s posture straightens a little like it always does when he talks about Sam. He gets flack sometimes for acting like a parent, but supporting his brother through school was the best decision he’s made in his life. He knows that Sam wants to help people and eventually teach. He’d be great at it. “His ultimate goal is to be a professor, but apparently academia is insanely political.” 

“Sure, it’s all about who you know.” 

“Sammy would be awesome. His students would love him.” Dean sighs and picks up a pen, twirling it around absentmindedly. “Anyway, I don’t mean to bore you. I’m sure you’d like to discuss more pertinent things.” 

“No, this is good. I want to get to know you before deciding to bring you on the team or not.” 

“How am I doing so far?” 

She offers a thumbs up. “Not bad, hotshot.”

Dean is surprised by the informal lingo. It’s refreshing; he’ll give her that. “Well, if I’m on a roll, let’s keep the momentum going. Is there anything else you’d like to know?” 

“Yes,” she tilts her head. “I’ve heard from your staff that you work _a lot_. What do you do for fun?” 

“You’ve talked to Tessa?” Dean teases lightly. “I gotta admit I kinda live at the office.” 

“And when you aren’t here?” she prompts him gently. 

“I coach little league in my neighborhood.” 

“You’re kidding. Baseball fan?”

“Kansas City Royals, since I was a kid.”

“How’s coaching those tiny rug rats?” 

“They’re teaching _me_ more than I signed up for.” Dean chuckles at the thought of his team, with their grass stains and caps and “Coach Winchester!”s. “Last Sunday, a boy on the other team tripped on the field, scraped up his knee. All my kids just stopped and ran over to help and- I mean, I was real proud. Got a bit misty.” 

Celeste smiles, bright and amused. “And you’re _sure_ you aren’t a dad?” 

Dean laughs as he shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m sure. Been single for a while.” 

“Now, even I find that hard to believe – and I bat for the other team.” 

Pink rises in the apple of Dean’s cheeks. “My friends tell me it’s ‘cause I’m a romantic.” He pauses, somewhat reminiscent, his smile fading for barely a second. “There was one time I really thought I’d found him, but…” he meets her eyes again. “Sometimes we’re wrong.” 

“Yeah, love sucks sometimes,” she says sympathetically, leaning back in her chair. She watches him intently for a beat, then says, “Well, Dean, we’d like to invite you up to Boston to meet the team.” 

Dean widens his eyes before breaking in a smile. “That’d be great! I look forward to meeting everyone.” 

Celeste returns the expression. “I look forward to working with you.”

 

 

 **August 11, 2016 – Logan International Airport, Boston, Massachusetts**  

When Dean arrives in baggage claim, there’s a man in a suit with his name on a sign. It isn’t the first time he’s been picked up like this, so Dean doesn’t think much of it and follows him out.

The car is black with tinted windows, a town car in a line with taxis and others. The driver takes Dean’s carry-on and opens the door, waits for Dean to slide in and settle back on the leather. Now, Dean prefers his Baby above all vehicles but this is nice too – spacious and polished. There’s also a partition and water bottles and the music switched on to easy listening.

Celeste had called just hours after their meeting, to say she’d take care of his itinerary and her staff was excited to meet him. A driver would pick Dean up and bring him to their office in the Seaport District. 

Dean watches the buildings pass him by; it’s been a long time since he’s come to Boston. He almost flew here on a whim as a teenager, when- 

He sighs and turns away from the window.

 

 

The floor that Dean steps onto is like straight out of a movie set, with floor-to-ceiling glass looking into each office and mahogany bookcases serving as walls. If Dean is surprised by how empty it is, he doesn’t have time to dwell on it, as he’s quickly greeted by Celeste who crosses the hardwood in pink suede flats. 

“How was your flight?” she shakes his hand, red curls loose around her shoulders today. 

“Everything was fine,” Dean smiles at her. “Thanks again for arranging it.” She leads him into a room dwarfed by a massive conference table. He follows her cue to sit at its head while she takes a chair diagonal to his. “So,” he folds his hands, keeping his gaze confident and focused. Cutting to the chase has always been his style. “I’m hoping we can chat about the blueprints you sent.” 

“Right,” she straightens a little, pulling out her phone to tap out a text. “Let me get my team in here and we’ll answer any questions you have.” 

“Sounds great,” Dean smoothes out his jacket, watching the hallway through the spotless glass. It doesn’t take long for the staff to file in, all around Celeste’s age except for one clearly younger. He could honestly be a high school student with his narrow build and floppy black hair. Dean guesses he might be an intern and is wholly caught off guard when he introduces himself. 

“Hey, Dean, I’m Kevin. I lead the research team.” 

“Good to meet you, Kevin.” Not an intern then. Dean barely has the chance to process that as he goes down a line of names and handshakes. Hannah, Nora, Bartholomew, and finally a woman he recognizes. 

It utterly throws him when he remembers where from. His hand is stopped in mid-air and she lifts an amused, perfectly groomed eyebrow. “It’s typically my boss who has this effect on people.” She steps forward. “I’m-” 

“You’re Bela Talbot.” 

He remembers her name from _The_ _New York Times_ , from their election coverage, from interviews. She’s a force of nature, beauty and brains, and Castiel Novak’s campaign manager. 

 _Cas_.

Dean turns to Celeste. “Are we working on something for the… Democratic Party?” 

“In a sense, you are,” Bela says breezily. “Hell, if this works, you’ll be the star of it.” 

Dean frowns. “What are you talking about?” 

Celeste catches his elbow. “Let’s sit. We’ll explain everything.” He eyes her suspiciously but obliges anyway, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Dean, when we met on Monday, I _was_ vetting you to work with us. But it isn’t the project described in the proposal. What we’re about to discuss is classified.” 

Dean stares at her, then the rest of the team, of which only Kevin seems somewhat guilty. “Wait a minute,” he huffs in shock. “You’re saying that the proposal was just a cover?” 

“Yes,” Bela interjects calmly, “and in about five minutes, you’ll understand why. Whether you accept this offer or not, we’ll also ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.” 

“We hope you do though,” Celeste chimes in. “You’re by far the best candidate for this.” 

“Well, Celeste, do you mind telling me what ‘this’ is?” 

“Her name is Charlie,” Bela corrects him serenely, “and by ‘this’ we mean dating the president.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I- I’m sorry,” Dean stammers a laugh. “Did you say ‘dating the president’?” This had to be some kind of joke, but no one is laughing. He squirms in his seat. “Look, I don’t know how you found… Trust me, I’m not right for this job.” 

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t,” Bela says. “I insisted that the team be painstakingly selective.”

“Then all the more reason that I’m _not_ ,” argues Dean, his insecurities flaring up along with confusion at Bela’s confidence. “I mean, how do I fit the bill? I’m just-” 

“A successful engineer who coaches little league? Raised by a single mom, got a full ride to college then CalTech for your Master’s- Not to mention, your brother’s a lawyer and so is his wife, if I’m not mistaken. You’re forty-three. Single. Never married. A certified workaholic with classic good looks and a great narrative. You like cars and classic rock and have always voted blue… Need I say more?” 

Dean swallows hard and drops his eyes. He’s never been good at processing praise. 

“The reality is, Dean,” Bela continues, “that Roman’s campaign has put us in a bind. Cas has great ratings, it’s no question… but Roman is targeting a major weak spot.” 

“That he’s single?” Dean hedges quietly. “I don’t understand how that might be a problem.” 

“We hoped it wouldn’t,” Charlie chimes in, drumming her fingers against the table. “It wasn’t a huge concern four years ago, but the public wants a man they can place this time.” 

“What Charlie means is that, historically, voters have chosen first _families_ , not just presidents. They may have elected Cas back in 2012 for his policies but now they want to see him settled in his personal life.” Bela takes her mug in both hands, eyes flicking up to meet Dean’s across the table. “We know it’s ridiculous that after all he’s accomplished, the race is coming down to whether he’s dating. But we care about Cas. We believe in him, and if this is what it takes, then we’ll find a fake boyfriend.” 

“Which brings us to you,” Charlie turns to him. “I’m sure it’s a lot to take in right now.” 

“That’d be an understatement,” Dean mutters to himself while frowning at the wall. 

“We’ll compensate you, of course. If you name your terms, we will try to meet them. You’ll get your own staff to guide you along and there won’t ever be a moment when you’re fending for yourself.” 

“Or a moment when I’m left alone. You’re asking me to willingly submit to scrutiny.” 

“In a manner, yes, but for your own safety.” 

“Oh, so my life will be at risk too, then.” Dean bristles at their lack of response. “What about my family? Can they know about this?” 

“The story they hear will match the one in the press. We can’t afford to have two versions out there.” 

Dean clenches his fist in his lap, bunching up the fabric of his once-pressed slacks. He could walk away, just sign the non-disclosure, and pretend like this was all some bizarre, wild dream. 

Except there is one thing that gives him pause. “If I do this, then I don’t want your money.” 

Bela looks surprised but she hides it quickly. “Alright. What would you prefer?” 

Given the question, Dean hesitates; it wasn’t his intention to involve anyone. _Hell, what’s the harm in asking_ , he thinks, and charges on, “My brother wants to teach. I think he’s brilliant. Me and plenty of others. ‘Cept legal academia is small and political. He’s more than qualified, which you’d probably know from- The, um… dossiers. Anyway, the point is-” 

“He’ll have his pick of positions to choose from. I’ll see to it myself,” Bela says like it’s nothing. 

“That’s it?” It’s anti-climactic. “That easy, huh?” he adds with a laugh. It comes out breathless and a little bit bitter and, damn, it must be nice to have so much power. 

“Whatever you need, Dean,” Bela assures him. “Even months down the line, if you think of something, just let us know. We’ll take care of it.” 

“If I follow your plan to the T, that is.” 

Bela smiles. “You’re a smart man.” 

Dean thinks about Sam, how he’d sounded on the phone – the plain disappointment and his valiant effort to seem cheerful for Dean’s sake. He could do this for Sam, couldn’t he? He’s made sacrifices for family before… Even if the thought of seeing _him_ again made his heart drop down to the pit of his stomach. He could handle seeing Cas again. Touching him again. _Kissing_ him again. Fuck, a _fake_ relationship. What is he thinking? This is pure insanity. “I need more time,” he blurts, embarrassed, well-aware of the flush creeping up on his cheeks. 

Bela opens her mouth, as if to deny him, but Charlie cuts in, “Of course. Take your time.” 

Dean nods then rises to his feet. “Is there a restroom here?” 

“At the end of the hallway. Paul will show you.” 

Paul turns out to be Security, the same one who escorted Dean to this floor. In hindsight, Dean wonders how he didn’t find that odd an hour ago. Thankfully, Paul stays outside while Dean makes a beeline for the marble sink. He quickly runs the water and splashes it on his face, tilting up his chin to stare in the mirror. 

A flash of blue, and orange summer sunsets. Shy, warm kisses in the back of his car.

Dean shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair, uncaring of the water being splattered everywhere. 

_I can’t do this_ , he tries to breathe. How can he when the thought of him alone makes his heart beat wildly and his knees go weak? Shit, he’s being so pathetic, but the memories are raw, flaying open his wounds. He’ll have to go out there and tell them ‘no.’ Sam or not. He has to walk away. 

He can’t be certain how long he spends warring with himself, clutching the sink. No one’s barged in or rushed him along, which makes Dean think that they’re expecting a freak-out. 

By the time Dean is ready to leave, his shirt is rumpled and his tie askew. He couldn’t care less about either as he pulls the door open and steps outside.

 

 

When Cas walks off the elevator, he doesn’t expect Bela to pull him aside. “What are you doing here? We told Victor we weren’t ready for your meeting yet.”

“I was in town to see Michael. You know that,” he says. “And what do you mean? Charlie told me otherwise.” 

“The _plan_ was to be ready by now.” Bela sounds exasperated. “He hasn’t decided.”

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Well, I honestly can’t say that I blame him.” There’s a darker hint of self-deprecation that Bela catches immediately. 

“Hey,” she touches his arm. “It’s not because of you. You have to realize that.” 

“No, I know,” he smiles fondly, grateful for a friend who can read him so well. “Let me check in with the rest of the staff. I’m headed back in a couple of hours.” They walk arm-in-arm, flanked by security, heading down the hallway of familiar rooms enclosed by two-inch, bulletproof glass. The building is guarded and otherwise empty, a secret haven for his closest staff. They’ve gone past the first two offices when Cas spots Paul standing outside the restroom. “Somebody in there?” he asks Bela, who simply replies, “He had a minor meltdown.” 

Cas frowns, slowing his stride, his entire detail stopping behind him. “Bela,” he looks at Paul, “I don’t think-” 

That’s when the door opens and leaves him speechless. 

_Dean._

His mind supplies the name and a whole slew of memories that make him gasp. The sight is so jarring that he might stumble back or take a hasty step forward, he isn’t sure. _Dean_. He remembers those eyes, stunningly lit under the Kansas sun. The brilliant shade of green he’d missed so _much_ and- 

“Dean.” It aches to say his name. 

He’s also forgotten that they’re not alone, prompting Bela to stare at him in disbelief. “Do you _know_ him?” she asks in a whisper, almost making him laugh with the absurdity of it. 

_Do I know him_ , Cas smiles sadly. _I fell in love with him and never fell out_. 

“That’s him?” he murmurs to Bela. “He’s the one- The one your team chose?” 

“Yes,” Bela watches him, her instinct to troubleshoot kicking into gear. “Cas-” 

“I need a minute,” he holds up a hand, walking away before she can protest. Dean gets closer, close enough to touch, though Cas is well aware he isn’t allowed. The eyes he’d dreamt about are wide and frantic, avoiding his gaze and fixed on the floor. Cas pushes down the hurt in his chest and stops short of where Dean is standing. 

“Hello, Dean.” The words feel surreal. It’s been so long – _years_ – since he’s said them.

Dean blinks as if he could cry, squaring his shoulders and meeting Castiel’s eyes. 

“Cas,” he breathes quietly, his voice still the same – warm like honey. Cas remembers how it sounded during thunderstorms and over the rumble of Baby’s engine. “I wasn’t… expecting to see you today.” 

“Neither was I,” Castiel admits. He scuffs his shoe against the floor beneath him and feels like a teenager all over again. “I was briefed about the interviews. I didn’t realize… Are you- Do you live in D.C.?” 

“Yeah,” Dean clears his throat. “I’m, um… I’m an engineer.” 

“I’m sure you’re wonderful at your job.” Dean blushes at compliments still. “How are- How is your family?” 

Dean smiles slightly at the mention of them. “They’re good. Mom’s doing well. Sam’s a lawyer in Connecticut.” 

“Sam was always bright,” Cas says with a smile, which Dean mirrors softly, “Yeah, I’m proud of him.” 

A beat of silence falls over them both until Dean adds, “He got married last year. They’d been dating forever but… you know, with loans and stuff, they wanted to wait.” 

Cas nods. “What’s her name?” he asks. 

“Eileen. She’s a lawyer too.” 

“A match made in Heaven.”

“I’d like to think so.” 

There are questions on the tip of Cas’ tongue, ones he isn’t sure he has permission to voice. _What about you,_ he wishes to ask. _Have you dated many people? Were they good to you?_

But before he can speak, Dean beats him to the punch. “So, you’re looking for a boyfriend, huh?” 

Cas can’t help but blush, somewhat mortified. “My staff decided it would quell the opposition.” 

“They didn’t trust you to date on your own?” 

“It’s more complicated… with my schedule.” 

“Complicated,” Dean echoes faintly. “It’s always been complicated with you, hasn’t it?” 

“Dean-” Cas reaches out, his movement aborted, awkward, and pained. “I’m sorry,” he confesses eventually, because it’s true and long overdue. 

Dean huffs, looking past Cas’ shoulder. “You could’ve told me that years ago.” He’s trembling and it drives Cas crazy that there might be nothing he can do to fix this. 

“I know,” Cas shuts his eyes, then opens them again, takes a cautious step forward. “The way things ended-” 

“The way _you_ ended things.” 

“Dean, I-” 

“You-” Dean cuts in harshly, lashes dark and wet. “You broke my _heart_ , Cas.”

 

 

**July 7, 1989 – Lawrence, Kansas**  

“Your birthday’s coming up,” Dean smiles crookedly, tangling his fingers with Cas’ between them. They’re lying side by side on the hood of the Impala and the air is balmy, soft on their skin. 

“It’s just another day,” Cas says with a shrug, lets out a breathless laugh when Dean leans in to kiss him. 

“No, it isn’t,” Dean says with such certainty, like he sees something valuable in Cas that no one else does. 

“Can we do this again? On my birthday?” Cas asks. 

“Well, sure,” Dean seems surprised, “but wouldn’t you rather go somewhere?” 

“We _are_ somewhere,” Cas counters playfully. “I’d rather be here than anywhere else.”

“On the hood of my car?” Dean quirks his lips, and, god, he’s handsome; it’s almost unfair. 

“No,” Cas lowers his eyes, before clarifying shyly, “Just being with you.” 

“I could take you to a restaurant and be with you there.” 

“Yes, but I can’t… kiss you if we’re sitting in a restaurant.” 

“Knew it,” Dean tweaks his nose. “You just wanna kiss me,” he wriggles his brows.

“Like _you_ don’t think the same,” Cas rolls his eyes, turning red when Dean gently cups his face. 

“You’re right,” Dean peers at him, his expression so fond that it clenches Cas’ heart. “I do think the same,” he thumbs Cas’ cheek. 

Cas feels the kiss right down to his toes. 

He bunches his fingers in Dean’s worn t-shirt, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss. With an amused huff against Castiel’s lips, Dean willingly obliges, his hand a steady weight on Cas’ waist. He moves his other hand into Cas’ hair, skimming his fingers through the dark, messy tufts. Castiel shivers, clutching Dean back, every nerve in his body sparking like stars. 

He sighs when Dean pulls away, feeling selfish and immediately wanting contact again. Dean must notice the look in his eyes, because he bends down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “When do you need to be back?” 

Castiel frowns. “By dinnertime.” 

“We better stop kissing then.” 

“I don’t want you to stop.” He might be pouting, as embarrassing as that is, but Dean only laughs as he pulls himself up. 

“Come on,” Dean takes his hand. “Don’t get yourself in trouble because of me.” 

He says it so earnestly that Cas can’t protest, can only tug him back for one last kiss. Their hands stay clasped together, tethering the two of them, their heartbeats in sync. 

They aren’t in a hurry to climb off of Baby, or to gather the blanket draped over the hood. They stop at every chance to smile at each other – their gaze too magnetized to stray very far. When they finally manage to sit in the car, Dean switches on the radio, some Guns N’ Roses song. He knows all the words and finds Cas’ hand and Cas revels in the closeness, how the hum of the engine mixes with Dean’s voice.

 

 

“You’re spending a lot of time with that boy,” his aunt comments later without any preamble. They’re halfway through dinner with only sounds of clinking silverware to fill the air, and she seems to know that saying ‘that boy’ would be enough for Cas to understand who she’s referring to. 

“I’m not neglecting my studies,” Cas replies in an effort to preempt her point. He’s always been diligent with his academics, his advanced summer studies notwithstanding. 

“I didn’t say you were,” she cuts into her steak. She’s feigning nonchalance. “Remind me of his name?” 

“It’s Dean,” Cas leaves out the surname, because that’s really the part his aunt wants to know. 

“Hmm,” she curbs her disappointment. “Will you be spending your birthday with him?” 

“I would like to,” Cas says honestly, gauging her poker face for some sort of reaction. 

“Your uncle flies back tomorrow. We were thinking of dinner in town.” She takes a dainty sip of her wine. “If Dean would like to join us, that would be fine.” 

Cas blinks, surprised at the offer. That wasn’t how he expected this conversation to go. “I’ll ask him,” he replies with a nod, which his aunt reciprocates. “Good,” she says.

 

 

“Are you sure?” Dean asks the next day. “I wouldn’t know which fork to use when.” His tone is light but there is something vulnerable lurking in it too, so Cas leans forward, kisses his cheek, and watches the tension leave Dean’s tight shoulders. “Don’t leave me to drown, okay?” 

“I won’t,” Cas promises. 

“Well, ah,” Dean still seems nervous, which Cas would feel bad about but finds so endearing. “Could I maybe take you to dinner tonight?” 

The question makes his heart trip. “Sure, I’d like that.” 

“I thought I could make something for you,” Dean says. “Mom and Sammy will be home, but I can ask if…” 

Cas shakes his head. “No, don’t make a big deal. Plus, I want to meet them if that’s alright with you.” 

“Okay,” Dean smiles, looking pleased. “Let’s head back, pick a cake up on the way.” 

The bakery Dean drives them to is owned by a sunny, blonde woman named Donna. She looks from Dean to Cas, smile knowingly all the while, then takes out two warm, jelly-filled doughnuts and slides them across the counter. “Just made a fresh batch.” 

The powdered sugar sticks to each of their fingertips and across their mouths, turning pink to white. The sight of Dean licking sugar from lips makes Castiel pause, look away, flush hot. “Donna, this is Cas,” he hears Dean explain. “It’s actually his birthday tomorrow, so I could really use your expertise.” 

“Is it now?” Donna claps her hands together, eyes lighting up as she takes Cas in. “Oh, he’s a cutie, Dean,” she says with a wink, making Castiel smile and duck his head. “What kind of cake are you looking for?” 

“Whatever he wants,” Dean nudges his shoulder. 

“Well, I have carrot, chocolate fudge, strawberry shortcake, lemon raspberry…” 

“The chocolate fudge sounds very scrumptious.” 

Donna laughs. “Believe me, it is.” 

She ices ‘Happy Birthday Cas’ in delicate script and loses the argument when Dean tries to pay. Cas then puts the cost of two doughnuts in the tip jar as they leave and she throws her hands up in fond exasperation. 

Back in the car, as the scenery shifts from stores in town to cul-de-sacs, Cas gets nervous about meeting Dean’s family and making a suitable first impression. The way that Dean describes his mother assures Castiel she’ll be perfectly lovely, but Cas isn’t used to letting down his guard; that never happens at the dinners he attends. He must be fidgeting quite a bit because Dean reaches over to hold his hand in his. “You know I like you, right?” he waits for Cas to nod. “So, they’ll like you too.” 

The Winchesters’ place is a modest two story on a quiet street lined with evergreen trees. From the bright red mailbox with their hand-painted name to the cream-colored shutters on every window, the home is obviously cared for and loved, and Cas feels cozy just looking at it. He’s standing in the driveway waiting for Dean, who joins him with the cake and a smile on his face. Threading their fingers together, he takes Cas to the door and nods for him to ring the bell. 

They hear two sets of footsteps – one fast, one slower – before the door swings open to a shout of “Dean!” It’s a younger boy with sandy brown hair and the gangly limbs of a middle schooler. 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean releases Cas’ hand, ruffling Sam’s bangs to a loud, indignant squawk. “Cas, meet Sam,” he adds with a laugh while ignoring Sam’s glare with brotherly indulgence. 

“Hello, Sam,” Cas puts out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Dean.” 

“He’s told me a lot about you too.” A mischievous grin overtakes Sam’s face. “ _Actually_ , he doesn’t shut up about you. It’s always, ‘Cas did this, Cas did that.’ You must be seriously awesome, huh?” 

“Oh,” Cas blinks in response while Dean lunges forward to put Sam in a headlock. 

“I can’t believe you!” Dean gives Sam a noogie. “You’re such a little brat!” he laughs breathlessly. 

“ _Boys_ ,” comes a voice from inside. “We have a guest. Let’s behave, alright?” Seconds later, Dean’s mother walks out and Cas is awe-struck at the striking resemblance. “You must be Cas,” she says to him and he can see where Dean gets his smile. “It’s nice to put a face to the name.” 

“It’s great to finally meet you, Mrs. Winchester.” Cas blushes at the thought of Dean telling her about him. 

“Mary,” she corrects with a smile as she gestures all three boys to head inside the house. 

As he follows everyone to the kitchen, Cas glimpses at the photographs hanging on the walls. Some include a man he assumes was Dean’s father, holding his sons in strong, muscled arms. Cas stops in front of one where Dean is very young, propped up on the hood of the Chevy Impala. He’s swimming in the jacket that’s draped over him – made of soft-looking leather and definitely his dad’s. 

“He loved that car,” Dean comes up behind him, wrapping both arms around Castiel’s waist. Cas stills, unsure whether their affection is allowed in Dean’s home, but the homey sounds continue from the kitchen and Dean seems relaxed, so he follows suit. “He bought her from a used car salesman who tried to sell him a _van_. Can you imagine?” Dean hooks his chin over Cas’ shoulder. “I could be driving a two-tone Volkswagen.” 

“I’d still date you,” Cas says softly, the weight of his words beating heavy on his heart. 

“Yeah?” Dean smiles against his cheek. “That what we are? I can say we’re going steady?” 

“Is that alright?” Cas keeps his eyes forward, lest looking at Dean would break his resolve. 

Dean tightens his warm, protective embrace. “I’ve been wanting to call you my boyfriend.” 

Now, Cas has been with boys before – some of whom had held his attention for months. But not even the best of them could make him flush or stammer like Dean, none who could make him go weak with a statement and make him want to replay moments forever. 

“Mom!” Sam yells from the kitchen, poking his head out from the open archway. He’s grinning like a pig in mud. “Dean is being icky in the hallway with Cas!” He yelps when Dean tackles him while Cas laughs behind them, thoroughly amused. It’s not until Mary reappears to break them up that Dean stops relentlessly tickling his brother. 

“I thought you were helping me?” Mary gestures at Dean, who smiles sheepishly before trailing behind her. He attempts to protest when she hands him an apron, but it fades on his tongue at one pointed look. “Make yourself at home, Cas,” she says with a wink. “Dean’s been waiting to cook for you. Do you like burgers?” 

He did. In fact, he’d told Dean that he always missed them when he stayed at his uncle’s. The meals were always impeccable but sometimes he craved a mean burger and fries. “I do, very much,” he smiles back then sits beside Sam at the kitchen table. 

It’s sort of a wonder to watch Dean cook, moving so fluidly around the kitchen. He even hums random melodies, completely in his element, and Cas is unable to take his eyes off of him. 

“You’re just as bad,” Sam teases him at one point. “Both of you and your goo-goo eyes.” His expression is bright and dimpled, however, prompting Cas to sigh dreamily just to make him laugh.

 

 

“If we hadn’t had cake, I’d have baked you a pie,” Dean says later that night when they’re parked in a clearing, though Cas feels sated from succulent burgers and home-baked fries and chocolate cake. They’d sat around the table and talked for hours, parted with hugs from Mary and Sam. Now, he and Dean are nestled in the back of the Impala and Cas couldn’t picture a more perfect night. 

“It was great,” he assures his boyfriend. He can’t believe he gets to call Dean that. “You have a wonderful family, Dean. Thank you for tonight.” 

Dean kisses his forehead. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” 

Cas blushes at the term of endearment, and even more so when Dean pulls back and they’re face to face, inches apart. A spark of something heated passes between them before he moves forward to catch Dean’s lips in a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to cup Dean’s face and deepen their contact, instantly breathless. 

They kiss for what feels like ages – he can’t keep track with Dean’s hands on his hips – but the next time they break apart, the windows are fogged and Dean looks a little dazed. “Whoa,” he says with a smile, the sexy, slow kind that quirks up on one side. “Could we do more of that?” 

Cas laughs and leans back in. 

Somewhere along the way, the car gets too hot for the two of them, and Cas’ fingertips find the hem of Dean’s shirt while Dean tugs Cas’ up and over his head. The second it’s skin on skin, it’s zero to sixty, both moaning at once, and it isn’t just taking off their shirts that makes goosebumps erupt where he and Dean touch. 

“Dean,” he pants against Dean’s mouth, his weight pushing forward till they’re pressed against the door. They’re both smiling as they kiss and _kiss_ , Cas straddling Dean’s lap and the friction too much. “Can I…?” he bites his lip, fingers combing through Dean’s hair and messing it up. “I want…” he hesitates again, not wanting to seem desperate but _wanting_ this boy. 

Dean appears to understand just fine in how he pulls Cas closer and leaves a trail of careful kisses along his jaw. 

“Me too,” he whispers to him, “but only if you want, Cas. We don’t have to rush.” 

“No,” Cas nips at Dean’s lower lip, relishing the sharp hitch of breath it induces. “I want to,” he says and moves back, needing to look into Dean’s eyes for this. “Dean… I want to so much.” He finds Dean’s hand and squeezes it tight. 

“Okay,” Dean blinks at him, bright and beautiful – a golden boy. He’s trembling a little, Cas notices, as he runs his thumb over each of Dean’s knuckles. 

“Have you done this before?” his question falls, quiet and serious, in the air between them. 

“Not this,” Dean laughs nervously, detangling his hand to touch Cas’ cheek. “Is that a deal-breaker?” he wonders, clearly worried what Cas might think, but the reply he gets is a soft, soft kiss and a gentle “No, definitely not.” His expression is a pout when Cas shifts back. “Kinda jealous of the guys who got to kiss you first.” 

It’s cute and Castiel says “I’m with you now,” which makes Dean laugh. 

“That’s right,” he murmurs fondly, teasing the waistband of Cas’ shorts, “and it looks like you’re the experienced one.” He leans back and winks, “So, go on, Cas.” The quiet, lazy way he says this settles deep and hot in Castiel’s belly, and before he knows it, he’s surging forward to press his lips to Dean’s again. His fingers fumble for the buckle of Dean’s jeans, moving frantically, impatiently. He slides his hand inside once it’s finally open and their shuddering moans come quick and desperate. “God, Cas,” Dean grips the leather seat, watching Cas stroke his already thickening length. His voice is shaky as he jerks his hips forward, unable to keep his head from tipping back in pleasure. Cas takes advantage of this new expanse of skin, bringing their bodies flush together to nip at Dean’s neck. He savors how Dean fills out in response to his touch and pushes back for more between groaning his name. 

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean moans breathlessly, still clutching the leather. “Don’t wanna come yet.” That makes Cas pause, as much as he hesitates, to cease the teasing and move things along. 

“Do you have anything?” he asks. 

Dean blushes a little. “Yeah, up in the front.” He huffs and rolls his eyes at the smile that slowly spreads across Cas’ face. It’s still there when Dean kisses him. “What?” he murmurs. “A guy can hope.” 

Once Cas fetches the condom from the glove compartment, both of them laughing at their mutual haste, Dean surprises Cas by taking his waist and pinning him down, flat on his back. His lips are soft yet insistent, moving from Cas’ lips to his collarbone, and it’s all Cas can do to grasp Dean’s biceps and willingly give himself over. 

“Dean,” he mumbles inanely, threading his clean hand through Dean’s hair, pulling gently, possessively, tipping his head back for an easier angle. It’s all a bit impatient but Dean moves obligingly, cupping a hand around the back of Cas’ neck and kissing him back. 

Dean’s name is another soft breath from his lips when they break apart once more, and Cas thumbs the arch of Dean’s cheekbone, saying nothing and everything with the besotted look he gives him. 

Dean doesn’t say anything either, but turns his head to kiss Cas’ palm curled around his face, and his eyes have gone huge and dark and gorgeous, more beautiful than anyone Cas has ever met. 

He whines helplessly when Dean’s hand slowly opens the front of his shorts and pushes inside, moving over the precome already pooled there and coating his fingers with it. It sounds slick and wet and dirty, making the ends of his nerves spark like a livewire, and Dean touches him with such gentle assurance that Cas just urges him on for more. He arches his hips when Dean tugs at his shorts, over his hips then down his legs then landing on the floor of the car. “Is this okay?” Dean asks quietly as he settles his weight between Cas’ thighs, his still-wet fingers brushing over Cas’ navel then down and further until- 

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel gasps, making Dean pull back slightly and stare up at his face, mouth open and breaths ragged and hot. “Don’t worry, I’m okay,” Cas says, pressing back until Dean’s finger slips inside. It’s tight and achingly slow and Dean’s looking down now at where his finger is disappearing into Cas’ body. “Keep going,” Cas moans softly. “I promise I can take it.” He watches Dean meet his gaze again, swallow hard and follow his request with those wide, green eyes. Cas’ own flutter shut and he groans at the fullness that comes a moment later, but Dean is so careful and attentive that he relaxes more quickly than he would have with anyone else.

“There’s… Dean, there’s a- _ah_!” Cas doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before Dean’s fingers find the spot that makes him jump, everything suddenly so raw that Dean’s kiss on his inner thigh draws out a whimper and a string of pleas. Dean, mesmerized, moves his fingers steadily, relentlessly, hitting the spot over and over until Cas’ toes are curling and he shoves the condom at Dean’s chest. 

“Ready?” Dean quirks his lips, waiting for Cas to nod before pulling out his fingers with just as much as care as he’d used to open Cas up. The condom crinkles in Dean’s hands and then Dean is pressing against him, folding Cas’ legs so they’re wrapped around his waist before reaching back down to line himself up. 

“Shit, _Cas_ ,” Dean groans into his neck, which is more than what Cas can seem to manage right now. Dean feels huge and Cas tilts his head back, gasping and trying to catch his breath. Dean has already stopped to trail kisses on his shoulder, waiting even as he trembles for Cas to relax before sliding in further. It’s slow and all so intense but eventually they get there, Dean fully inside, anchoring Cas as they get used to this feeling, a closeness unlike anything they’ve shared before. 

“You can move,” Cas breathes out, heart jackrabbit fast when Dean leans down to kiss him and shifts his hips, electric pulses racing through his body. Cas moans as Dean pulls out then pushes back in, again and again, the hot, hard length of him hitting his prostate and momentum picking up the louder Cas gets.

It’s only when he’s reduced to an incoherent mess that Dean pushes Cas’ legs up as far as they will go, making Cas sob out as he all but pounds into him, not stopping till Cas’ words are just his name over and over. 

It’s hard to say if Cas even needed Dean’s hand on him to make him come, because all it takes is a brush of his fingers for Cas to shoot messily between their bodies. His body is a frenzied mess as he clenches greedily around Dean’s length, and he feels Dean shudder against his neck, hips thrusting abortively through the aftershocks. 

“Oh my god,” Dean laughs into his skin, lowering his body till they’re slotted together. It ought to be unpleasant, how sweaty they are with come slick on their stomachs and chests, but then Dean lazily intertwines their fingers and nothing else seems to matter so much. 

“I’m pretty crazy about you,” Dean says, kissing each word into the curve of his shoulder. 

Cas smiles happily against Dean’s cheek. “I’m pretty crazy about you too.”

 

 

Something shifts between them after that, a newfound ease with physical affection and an added intensity when they look at each other. Cas misses him more fiercely now, every minute that they’re apart, and while some may brush it off as summer love, Cas is certain what they have is different. 

Dean arrives for his birthday dinner in a short-sleeved button down and fitted slacks. He clearly chose the nicest things he owns and Cas can’t help but kiss him right there at the door. 

“Are we allowed to do that?” Dean whispers fondly, curling his hand around Castiel’s wrist, but he lets go when the butler appears, Cas having beat him to answer the door. 

“Just not during dinner,” Castiel smiles, noting the pink on his boyfriend’s face. He can tell Dean’s nervous by his stance alone and wishes he could hold his hand. 

His aunt and uncle, surprisingly, show actual interest in learning about Dean, although in hindsight, Cas would have known that they needed information to pass onto his mother. 

“How are you spending your summer, Dean?” his uncle asks over the rim of his glass. 

Dean straightens up, smiles softly at Cas, then, “I’m helping my uncle down at the boardwalk.” 

“Is that right? And are you in school?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean nods in reply. “I hope to go to college for engineering.” 

“That’s very admirable,” Aunt Rachel smiles. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes but Cas is too busy watching Dean to really notice. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Castiel,” she notes serenely, swirling her wine. “There usually aren’t many boys his age within our circle when he summers with us.” 

Everyone catches the underhanded comment but Dean is valiantly undeterred. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies politely. “I don't believe it was coincidence that Cas and I met.” He looks at Cas, who reaches for his hand, beneath the table so no one can see. Cas runs his thumb over Dean’s pulse point and feels how quickly his heart is beating. 

“Well, what will you do when September comes around? Cas is going back to school, up in New England. He’s kept very busy with all of his schoolwork. We have incredibly high expectations for him.” 

“Aunt Rachel…” Castiel frowns, but even he can’t deny the truth. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Dean says with bravado, though the air turns tense among the four of them. 

“All this serious talk,” his uncle chides. “I thought we were celebrating tonight, sweetheart.” 

“Oh, you’re right,” she quickly demurs, gesturing at the staff to bring out the cake. “Enough serious talk,” she smiles at Dean, but it’s tighter and colder than it was before.

 

 

**August 11, 2016 – Boston, Massachusetts**

Dean is stunned by his own outburst and the wetness pooling in his eyes. He lifts a hand to wipe it away and focuses anywhere but Castiel’s face. The space is silent till the _click clack_ of heels cuts through the tension and stops beside him. “Cas, could we talk for a minute?” Bela takes Cas’ arm, visibly alarmed. 

Cas doesn’t answer, speaking to Dean instead, expression pleading. “I’ll be right back, just- Please don’t leave, Dean.” He breathes a shaky sigh. “Please stay,” he murmurs softly before following Bela into the closest office. Dean watches his shoulders droop, tired and burdened, and leans against the wall. 

No one approaches him for a while, all likely wondering what the hell just happened. The first one to do so is Charlie, albeit hesitantly with hands in her pockets. “I should have realized…” she trails off, as if searching for the best way to phrase her thoughts. “I asked Cas what he looked for in a guy. I had to in order to find him. It didn’t occur to me until just now that he was describing you the entire time.” 

Dean looks at her warily. “That’s a good line.” 

She responds with a frown. “It isn’t a line.” She glances to her right where Cas is sitting, beyond the glass wall that puts him out of earshot. “I met Cas when I was in college. He came to speak for like a Leadership Series. He was a Senator at the time and so passionate about LGBT rights and- I dunno, I worked up the courage to go up and tell him he inspired me.” There’s a wistful smile on her lips and clear admiration in her eyes. “I was sort of aimless at that point. The only C.S. major without plans to work in software, probably. I did hack-a-thons and LARPing on weekends and hid away with my headphones and blog and whatnot. But I guess Cas saw some potential in me because he hired me on for his next campaign.” 

A part of Dean thaws a little at the thought of college-aged Charlie looking up to Cas, but she also pretended to be Celeste Middleton and that isn’t something he can easily forget. 

“I know I used a cover when we met last time, but I promise that not everything about me was fake.” Charlie smiles again, but it’s sadder this time and she says, “Celeste Middleton was my birth name. I chose a different name after my parents died.”

Dean winces in sympathy. He wonders how young she was. Not that age makes anything easier, but he hopes she didn’t go through it as a frightened child with no one to hold her. “I’m sorry” is all he can manage. 

Charlie seems to appreciate it either way. “Thanks,” she says quietly. “Every year when that day comes around – the day I lost them – I try to get away. It’s honestly better for the people around me because sometimes I can get really messed up and- Anyway, the first year I worked for Cas, we were too busy. All hands on deck. Long story short, I broke down at work. I felt so awful but Cas just pulled me aside and _talked_ with me. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do. I mean, this guy has nearly every minute of his day pre-scheduled, and someone like that making time for you is insane when you’re twenty-three and resenting what life has put you through. Since then, he’s sent me yellow roses every year and I don’t think he understands just how nice a gesture it is.” 

While Dean listens, he tries not to falter, for he’s well aware Charlie wants to convince him. Her story may be genuine but that doesn’t undo his past or heartbreak. He can’t quite look at Charlie in the eye in case it makes him weak. Makes him say ‘yes.’ 

He lets his gaze wander over to the staff, the bodyguards, the paneled walls. It’s by accident that he turns away and looks into the office where Bela’s with Cas.

It’s also by accident that he absently follows the line of Cas’ arm down to his wrist, where he recognizes an old leather bracelet – just a simple cord wrapped around a few times. 

_‘_ A souvenir,’ he remembers telling Cas, who traced the soft material and murmured, ‘Thanks.’ 

_He still has it_ , Dean reels at the thought, mind jumping from _how_ to _why_ to _what now_.

How the hell is he supposed to process this? How in the world does Cas still _have_ that? What did it mean? It’s been so long. Perhaps it’s nothing. Just simple nostalgia.

Yet Dean had seen how desperate Cas looked, asking Dean to stay, for him to not leave.

Unfinished sentences pop up to plague him, starting with phrases like What if I, Maybe we could, Maybe this might. At the same time, hope flickers in Dean’s chest – and hope, as it turns out, is far more compelling than doubt.

Dean is still staring when Cas looks up, his smile a cautious and careful thing. Dean thinks of Sam and Bela’s promise, which war with his pride and poignant nostalgia. Doing this wouldn’t mean he’s forgiven Cas. 

Nor would he have to admit how much he’s missed him.

 

**August 15, 2016 – Coopertown Community Center, Haverford, Pennsylvania**  

“You’ll walk out after the Q and A and meet him by the stage. Let him come to you.” 

The stylist, Sara, straightens Dean’s tie, which is already impeccable as far as he can tell. He listens to Hannah while watching the screen where Cas took the stage forty minutes ago. 

He’s got a command and stage presence now that were merely nascent when they first met. In fact, it’s awe-inspiring to see how the audience responds to his eloquent words. Dean also, rather selfishly, takes in his fill of this Castiel. The same intense, mesmerizing blue eyes but broader shoulders and strong, lean muscles. He’s beautiful still but inevitably different, changed from growing up and becoming the leader of the Free World. 

In the obvious sense, he’s powerful and there’s allure that comes with that, but he’s also the Cas Dean fell for that summer, gorgeous and kind and flawed and good. 

“Ten more minutes,” Hannah warns him. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll be great.” 

It’s only his foray into national news, Dean thinks as he clenches and unclenches his hands. 

“Eight minutes,” Hannah announces, then – all too soon – it’s, “One minute, Dean.” 

An assistant leads Dean to the door that separates backstage from the sea of reporters. 

“Ready?” he hears someone say, but he can’t respond since the door swings open. Huge, black curtains obscure him from view until he rounds a corner and ends up at his mark. 

It takes him a second to adjust to the lights, which are so intense that he feels them as heat. How Cas has managed not to break a sweat, especially in a suit, is beyond his comprehension, but Dean finds his bearings as Cas thanks the audience and walks down the stairs in a roar of applause. 

The deafening noise is almost too much. He has never been exposed to such decibels in his life, and it’s a relief when Castiel spots him, mouthing ‘Dean’ with a smile this side of shy. 

His strides toward Dean are purposeful, stopping when their faces are just inches apart. Then with one hand curled around Dean’s waist, Cas leans forward to press a kiss to Dean’s cheek. 

If the cameras were flashing quickly before, they go insane the second this happens. Dean isn’t sure if Castiel can hear him over the storm of shutters and clamor, but he tilts his face, mouth close to Cas’ ear, to tell him, “You did great” like it were a secret. He fights a shiver when Castiel laughs, the warmth of it intimate in this public space. His own hand moves of its own accord, touching Cas’ wrist and the bracelet there. He tucks a finger beneath the loop and allows for that tiny, private point of contact. 

Ten minutes later, they’re back in the dressing room, split up and fussed over by various staff. Photos of their kiss hit all major outlets, each with a caption about Dean’s mysterious identity.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes Dean an entire day to drum up the courage to call his brother, but even then, nothing prepares him for the anger on the other line. 

“What the hell are you thinking!” Sam exclaims, likely pacing his office and glaring at the world. “First off, you neglected to _tell_ me that you ran into him again, and- And now, you’re _dating_? The _President_?” He huffs loudly like he used to in high school when Dean wouldn’t let him borrow Baby for dates. “He really hurt you, Dean. You remember that, right? You couldn’t even date, you-” 

“I know, I remember.” 

“Then why-” Sam cuts himself off and Dean can practically hear him push a hand through his hair. “It’s… It’s not because of me, right?” he asks weakly. “You’re not… Are you seeing him because _you_ want to?” 

“Sammy…” Dean bites his lip. His brother has always been too perceptive. “Don’t worry, it’s ‘cause I want to. We were _sixteen_ , Sam. More than twenty years ago.”

“Yeah, it’s been twenty-some years, but… Dean, you were hung up on him for most of that.” Whatever Sam is trying to say, he hesitates. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.” 

“I know,” Dean ducks his head. Neither of them is any good with emotions. “I’m not letting that happen,” he assures his brother. “We’re different now. _Cas_ is different.” 

“I’d imagine,” Sam relents, sounding more curious than frustrated now. “Although, the two of you making eyes at each other hasn’t changed. So, I guess that means I’m still gonna suffer.” He laughs a little, mostly nostalgic, then says, “Take care of yourself, okay? You don’t ever seem to do enough of that.” 

“I will,” Dean promises, ignoring the lump that’s formed in his throat.

 

Castiel ignores as many calls as he can until the looks from his secretary turn to pleading, so finally on his way to lunch with Bela, he takes out his cell and dials his mother. 

“Dean Winchester,” she says coolly. “Now, why does that name seem to ring a bell?” 

“Well, something tells me your question is rhetorical, but I could also remind you if you can’t remember.” The door to the conference room shuts behind him and Bela lifts an eyebrow upon seeing his frown. Quick to catch on, she mouths ‘Naomi?’ to which Cas nods in the affirmative. 

Meanwhile, his mother scoffs – though, coming from her, the noise sounds prim and proper. “So, you’ve found him again,” she tuts, “and you could have anyone, yet you still insist.” 

“Mother, I insist because it’s Dean,” Cas says as calmly as he can. “It would be him no matter the circumstances.” 

“Oh, darling,” his mother sighs, exasperated, making him feel like a helpless teenager again. “I never understood the hold this boy has over you! You don’t see him in _years_ and suddenly he’s on your arm at _rallies_? Has he even gone through media training? You do realize that you could be jeopardizing your career, don’t you? Could you imagine how different your life would’ve been had I not stopped him from _ruining_ -” 

“He wouldn’t have.” 

“Castiel-” 

“I agree that my life would’ve been different. I wouldn’t have been miserable at school, hating myself for letting you pull me away from him, hating myself for being cruel. We wouldn’t have wasted all that time and if being a public servant were my dream, Dean would have supported me. So, yes, if I apparently have the freedom now to be with whomever I want, then it shouldn’t surprise you that I chose Dean. I’m not losing him this time.” 

For the first time in a long while, his mother doesn’t immediately strike back with her argument on why Cas is wrong. Even his win four years ago hadn’t deterred her from being herself, but something in his tone, something more than just determination and certainty, seems to snap the fight out of her.

“I’m not going to change your mind,” she admits after a beat of silence. “And if you’re this resolute about being with Dean, then this is the last I’ll say on the subject.” She pauses like it’s difficult for her, which surprises Cas because nothing is ever too difficult for Naomi Novak to express – or so he’d thought. “If you lose in November, don’t let yourself resent Dean for it. Resentment is guaranteed to kill even the strongest of relationships.” 

 _You and Father_ , Cas thinks, a part of him – a part he’d forgotten about – aching at the memory of overhearing arguments behind closed doors and the separate bedrooms, the strained smiles at formal functions. 

“I won’t, Mother,” Castiel says, serious and solemn. “Thank you.” 

“I’ll see you next week, darling.” 

“Travel safely.” 

“You make sure of it.” There’s a smile in her voice as she hangs up, and Cas lowers his phone, deep in thought. 

“It wasn’t just dating, was it,” Bela says softly, coming to his side. “I had an inkling back in Boston, but…” she shakes her head, smiling at him. 

“But what?” he tilts her head. 

“I didn’t realize he was the love of your life.” 

Cas lets out a shaky breath. It sounds different, hearing it out loud. “I know it’s selfish, me wanting to keep… Bela, I just saw him _standing_ there and I… I know it’s too late. Maybe I can’t fix it-” 

“Maybe you can,” Bela gently disagrees. “Maybe he’s back in your life for a reason.”

He meets her eyes and sees nothing but support there, not just as his staff but a longtime friend. 

“Maybe this is your second chance.”

 

**August 21, 1989 – Lawrence, Kansas**

“I have to go,” Castiel laughs, his fingers still curled around Dean’s shoulders. They’ve been parked by the house for nearly an hour, unable to find a reason to pull away from each other. “Dean…” It comes out breathless and he buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean merely hums, hands caressing his waist, and they could be here all night unless- “I really have to go.” 

“No,” Dean mumbles grumpily, wrapping both arms around Castiel. “Just come over, stay the night,” he says, sighing when Cas threads his fingers through his hair. 

“I can’t,” Cas murmurs back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll get breakfast together.”

He feels Dean shift and lifts his head, their eyes meeting quickly and with regret. Dean cups both hands around Castiel’s face, warm and comforting. “When do you have to leave?” 

“Nine days,” Cas tips his head forward, till their foreheads touch. “The thirtieth.” 

“That soon, huh?” Dean leans in to kiss him. “And there’s no way you’d be able to stay?” 

Cas reaches up to find Dean’s hand, something to ground him while his heart begins to sink. “I don’t think so,” he sighs between them. “I could ask, but I don’t- I don’t know what she’d say.” 

Dean bites his lip. “She might understand.” His voice is filled with so much hope that Cas wants to believe him, against the odds. 

And instead of ‘My mother would never agree,’ Cas says, “Maybe. I’ll ask her. I promise.” 

It’s almost ten when Dean drives home – only after making sure that Cas is at the door, waving back. Cas smiles as he watches Baby, her headlights fading down the long, curving driveway, and then he opens the door as quiet as he can to get into the house unnoticed by staff. 

But the effort is soon proven futile when he runs into his mother at the foot of the stairs. He startles, eyes going wide; he hadn’t expected her for four more days. 

“Mother,” he breathes in surprise. “You’re- I thought you weren’t, um, flying in until Friday.” 

“I wasn’t,” she answers calmly, “but I received a phone call from your aunt last night. She says that you’ve been excusing yourself from dinners to go out with some boy from town. Is this true, Castiel?” 

Her gaze, stern and critical, forces Cas to curl in on himself. The confidence he felt with Dean evaded him the moment he saw his mother. “Yes,” he tells her softly. “His name is Dean. I met him in June.” 

“And you’ve ignored your responsibilities to merely entertain a summer fling.” 

“He’s not-” Cas squares his shoulders. “He’s more than that, Mother, I-” _I love him_. 

“Castiel,” his mother sighs, her shoes clacking sharply on the polished floor. “I can’t understand why you always forget that you aren’t ordinary, darling; you’re meant for big things. You came here to network and prepare for next year, not… _waste_ your time on a local boy.” 

Cas opens his mouth to protest but she barrels on, reading this thoughts. “You know I don’t care that you like boys, Castiel. You’re my son, first and foremost, and whom you prefer will never change that. We’re not telling anyone now because it will do more harm than good, but by the time you’re in office, I hope the world will be different and you won’t have to hide who you are anymore.” Her voice has softened and so has her expression, though neither seems to alter her opinion of Dean. “When you’ve achieved what you’re striving for, there will be plenty of others who’ll be a better fit.”

“Dean is good to me,” Castiel says, tone verging on desperate, blue eyes stinging. “I won’t let it affect anything, I promise. Mother, please, let me stay with him-” 

“ _Stay_?” his mother snaps. “Have you honestly lost your mind?” 

“I thought that-” 

“I won’t hear any more of it,” she waves a hand, turning on her heel to head up the stairs. “It looks like I better take you away from here. Once you’re home, you’ll remember what’s important.” Her finality leaves no room for argument. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Your things are already packed.” 

“What?” Cas blinks in shock. “You can’t-” 

“I can. Don’t test me, Castiel. You don’t want to cause this boy any trouble now, do you?” 

The warning is enough and Cas falls silent. 

He watches numbly as his mother ascends the stairs and out of his view, a part of him wishing he could change her mind, another wishing he’d never gone to the boardwalk that day. If he and Dean had never met, summer would’ve passed without incident. He wouldn’t have this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

He would have never fallen in love. 

But the reality is that he _did_ meet Dean, traced the constellations on his freckled skin. Knew what it felt like to be kissed by him and learned how infectious his laughter could be. 

He couldn’t leave without saying ‘goodbye,’ couldn’t even bear the thought of not seeing Dean again. Without caring what his mother would say, he turns around and runs out the door. 

Down by the gate, he grabs the bike he’d stubbornly kept there the entire summer, wipes harshly at his eyes so he can see and pedals away from the property as quickly as he can. He’s been to and from Dean’s place enough that he makes it to the Winchesters almost by instinct, his lungs working overtime to catch his breath and entire body breaking out in sweat. His nerves are still sparking on adrenaline when he reaches the porch and knocks on the door, hoping and hoping that Dean will answer because he doesn’t know what he’d say to Mary or Sam. 

The door opens after a minute, and thankfully it’s Dean, who appears surprised. “Cas? Babe, what’s going on?” 

Castiel breaks. 

He runs into Dean’s arms. 

“Cas…” Dean sounds so worried. “Hey, talk to me, alright? Is everything okay?” 

“Yes,” Cas grips Dean’s t-shirt. “Everything is fine,” he makes himself lie. “I just- I wanted to see you. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry,” he says.

Dean seems dubious only for a second before huffing out a laugh that rustles Cas’ hair. “You could have called,” he pulls Cas closer. “I would’ve gone back to pick you up.” He laughs again when Cas shakes his head. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” 

Mary and Sam must both be asleep, since the house is quiet save for their footsteps. Dean takes his hand before heading up the stairs and Castiel follows, silently committing every detail to memory. The short, fluffy tufts of ash brown hair and the calloused fingers that wrap around his own. The AC/DC shirt with the rip in the seam that Castiel borrowed the day they went swimming. 

Once they’re standing inside Dean’s room, Cas tugs on his hand to draw him near. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers quietly, peering at Dean through the thick of his lashes. 

Dean smiles – the slow, adoring kind – and answers softly, “You don’t need to ask.” He peers at Cas with such intensity as if he’s seeing Cas for the very first time, before cupping his face and kissing him deeply, tongue hot as it curls into Castiel’s mouth. His hands slip under Castiel’s shirt and it’s like he somehow knows that Castiel needs this. He may have no idea of Cas’ encounter with his mother back at the house, but he seems to pick up on Cas’ nervousness and leads him patiently through every touch.

It doesn’t take long for the two of them to end up on the bed with Cas straddling Dean, roaming hands in each other’s hair and mapping the planes of the other’s body. “Cas,” Dean murmurs hotly, hips rocking upwards in search of friction. Cas responds by nipping Dean’s neck and blinking back the wetness pooling in his eyes. 

“I love you,” he has to confess, because this might be the last time he can say it out loud, and it may seem insane to everyone else that he’s fallen so hard in such a short time, but the way Dean looks at him and makes him feel defies any convention, rhyme, or reason. 

Dean tucks a finger beneath Cas’ chin, brings it up until green is locked onto blue. “I love you too,” he whispers back then smiles so sweetly that Cas aches with it. 

He kisses Dean again so he won’t cry, ruts down against him to feel him closer. He trails his hands up and down Dean’s sides and tries to put across what he can’t in words. “I love you,” he says between kisses, rolling his hips and holding Dean tight. He swallows every moan he elicits from Dean and soon they’re moving fast and fluidly together. 

It’s like this they come, frantic and trembling, uncaring that their clothes are damp and sticky on their sensitive, nail-bitten skin. Cas looks up just in time to catch Dean’s expression when his climax hits, the way the green is nearly blocked by his pupils and how his mouth parts lush and pink.

It takes Dean a second to find his bearings, and once he does, he’s reaching for Cas. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, searching Cas’ face for any sign of distress. 

“I’m good,” Cas lowers his eyes, wills his pulse to slow down as he lies on Dean’s chest. “Is it strange that I miss you?” he asks. 

Dean gives a fond laugh. “I’m right here, Cas.” 

“Yeah,” Cas sighs into Dean’s shirt, shivering now that they’re lying still. He hears the rustle of sheets as Dean drapes the covers over them, and succumbs to sleep with his hand in Dean’s.

He leaves Dean’s house just minutes before sunrise, before anyone wakes up to see him go. He presses a kiss to Dean’s left cheek and watches him smile ever so faintly in his sleep, and the every minute of the days that follow is plagued by Dean’s voice saying, _I’m right here_.

 

**August 17, 2016 – Washington, D.C.**

“What do you know about Jo?” Charlie asks Dean in the car, a different device in each hand as usual. She might as well be Inspector freaking Gadget, he thinks, before reflecting on the question. “She’s running with Cas?” 

“Besides that!” Charlie laughs. “You’re going to be talking about her to the press.” 

“Would be helpful if I met her,” he says. 

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Smartass,” she sighs. “She’s on the campaign trail this week but you’ll meet her soon. She’s been briefed about you.” 

“About me or the plan?” Dean asks. 

“Both. She has to know what’s going on.” Charlie shifts in her seat to properly face him. “Now, the fundraiser you’re going to on Friday is where we’ll officially confirm your relationship to backers. The public’s in a frenzy to learn more about you, so we’ve got to be smart about how we present you.” 

“Sure, just tell me what to do.” 

“Alright,” Charlie folds her hands, iPhone and iPad put aside for now. “First comes the background story, the part that sets the tone for how everyone perceives you. We didn’t expect for you to know Cas already, but it’s actually a good thing; we don’t have to lie.” She has the grace to look apologetic, since it was clear on the day they met that Dean and Cas share an unresolved past. “You two dated as teenagers and reunited recently.” 

Dean drops his eyes. “Well, it’s accurate.” 

“No public dates for now; we don’t want it to look staged or too intentional. We’ll start with campaign events and move onto interviews and actual dates once your image is established.” 

“And what’s my image, exactly?” The town car they’re in slowly comes to a stop. 

Charlie smiles. “Just you as you are. There’s a reason we liked you, Dean.”

 

 

Dean has seen the Oval Office in pictures, none of which ever revealed how high the ceilings are, how the dome looms above him like a giant saucer and makes him crane his neck like a tourist in the city. 

Seeing Cas on the phone at the Resolute desk feels like watching a postcard come to life, because Charlie may have given him a tour but actually _being_ here with Cas brings a whole other vibe – an intensity. 

“I’m sorry about that, Dean,” Cas sweeps past his desk as he walks to the couch. He’s dressed in a tux, all sharp, pressed lines, the white bowtie at his throat admittedly charming. “It was rude of me to make you wait.” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Dean gives a small shrug. “I’m sure it was important. And presidential.” 

Cas laughs and peers fondly at Dean. “But you’re my date. Shall we head out?” He offers his hand expectantly, a shadow of worry on his handsome face – like he’s not fully convinced that Dean’s on board, like Dean might get up now and walk out the door. His visible relief when Dean takes his hand makes him look much younger, more vulnerable. It’s a side he can rarely show in public, Dean’s sure, and he’s somehow comforted by the fact that Cas hasn’t lost this part of himself. 

Cas doesn’t let go of his hand until they’re seconds before getting into the car, and though it’s a fairly short ride to Kalorama Heights, the tension between them is thick and electric. 

Dean spends the almost-twenty minutes silently reviewing the details of Bela’s briefing, of who will be attending and who will be hosting, on who to engage and when to step back. He’s rightfully distracted by Cas’ presence, solid and still just inches away, and if he were to shift his hand just a little they’d be touching again – like it was nothing. 

The cars arrive in a careful trail of identical vehicles for added security, and even when Dean steps out of theirs it’s difficult to see if they’re third or fourth. The driveway he’s standing on is neat and expansive, leading up to a sprawling, three-story home. He glances at Cas for a cue to head inside, but finds their eyes meeting like they were magnets. 

Cas smiles softly then takes his hand, gently pulling Dean closer to his side. “You look very nice, Dean,” he says earnestly. “I just wanted to tell you, now, when it’s quiet.”

“Oh,” Dean clears his throat, unsure of how to respond without sounding as flustered as he feels. “You do too. Look good, I mean... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing a tux.” 

Cas’ response is lost with the appearance of their hosts, who usher them inside exuberantly and peer at Dean in curiosity. From what Dean’s heard, Pamela Barnes and her husband have supported Cas since his first campaign, so it makes sense that she approaches Dean to find out who in the world he is. “For all the years we’ve known the President, he’s still an enigma to me and my husband,” she takes Dean’s arm as they walk through the foyer, a brightly-lit space with a massive chandelier. “Even then, we were so surprised and I apologize if this is intrusive, but I promised myself I’d ask how the two of you met. That is, if you don’t mind sharing.” 

The inquiry doesn’t faze Dean in the slightest; he’s already been prepped for it. “Of course not, Mrs. Barnes,” he says, at which she waves a hand and laughs, “Just Pamela. Please.” 

“Pamela,” he corrects himself, as a waiter walks by with champagne flutes. Dean takes two, offers one to Pamela, then continues the story, voice low and private. “Cas and I have actually… We dated when we were sixteen.” 

“You’re kidding,” Pamela gasps, hand over her heart. “Were you classmates?” 

“No, I lived in Lawrence where he spent his summer break.” Dean smiles wistfully. “We met at the boardwalk.” 

“Yes, we did,” Cas comes to his side, hand finding Dean’s waist as he smiles at their hostess. “He suggested that we go on the Ferris wheel and of course I was a goner, given the view.” 

“Are you saying you only fell for me because of the sunset?” Dean teases him. It’s surprisingly easy, this banter between them, like they’re just another couple fussing over their meet-cute. 

Cas turns to look at him and it’s as if no one else is even there. “By ‘view,’ I didn’t just mean the sunset.” 

Dean’s blush could never be faked. 

“Pamela, would you mind if I borrowed Dean for a minute?” Cas’ hand links together with Dean’s and he nods at Pamela whose eyes practically twinkle. “I thought I’d introduce you to some people,” he murmurs quietly as they walk away. Anyone farther than a foot from them would just see Castiel whispering in Dean’s ear. He tries to ease Dean’s nerves by squeezing his hand and never breaking their point of contact, whether it’s his palm on the small of Dean’s back or his fingers catching Dean’s elbow as they mingle with guests. 

Dean certainly feels a bit out of his element as he shakes hands with politicians and potential backers. He’s been to fundraiser dinners before, but none where he was at the absolute center of attention. Cas, on the other hand, long since accustomed, is the most attentive date that Dean’s ever had. He focuses intently on the guest they’re talking to without making Dean feel like he’s out of the loop. He always turns the conversations back to Dean, his face lighting up like he’s proud of him. 

“Did Charlie brief you on all that?” he asks, once they’re seated for dinner with the rest of Cas’ staff. Even with Bela and Hannah on either side of them and the Barneses across the table and out of earshot, Dean remembers to whisper so they aren’t overheard and watches raptly as Castiel smiles. 

“She did about you coaching little league. But your projects at work, I found out myself.” 

“You read my portfolio?” Dean blinks in surprise. 

“Between meetings, yes,” Cas finds Dean’s hand between their plates. “It wasn’t very difficult to find. There are a number of articles that highlight your work. And as you said, Colt has a very comprehensive portfolio for you on their website.” His thumb gently brushes over Dean’s pulse point. “I’m sorry, Dean. Did I overstep?”

“No,” Dean tells him softly. “I was just thinking it was probably boring to read all that. It’s not that interesting.” 

“Of course it’s interesting,” Cas insists, and there’s the hint of defiance Dean saw when they were younger, now strengthened with maturity and confidence and natural charisma that takes Dean’s breath away. “I know you’re modest – you’ve always been – but _I_ don’t have to be about you. You also always knew what you wanted, Dean. That’s just one of the things that drew me to you.” 

“Oh,” Dean hesitates, looking down to where their hands are joined. Cas’ elegant fingers tangled with his own, resting on the tablecloth for all to see. “Yeah, I guess I did,” he lifts his eyes. “I did always know what I want.” 

Flashes of guilt and regret manifest in Cas’ expression, and even without saying anything, the apology is evident in his remorseful eyes. Dean supposes they could have sat there with their eyes locked for the rest of the evening, but then Bela taps Cas on the shoulder, tells him it’s time for the keynote speech.

 

 

[Edit] From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia for **Castiel Novak**  

In August 2016, after remaining single throughout the entirety of his political career, Novak began dating Dean Winchester, a mechanical engineer based in Washington, D.C. It was soon revealed that Novak and Winchester had previously dated when they were sixteen, having met in Winchester’s hometown of Lawrence, Kansas where Novak often spent his summers. They were reunited when Novak learned that Winchester was working in D.C., and their rekindled relationship was revealed at a campaign rally in Haverford, Pennsylvania. 

Winchester has joined Novak on the campaign trail and begun to take a more active role at fundraisers, public appearances, and functions. The attention surrounding his relationship with the President has positively affected Novak’s campaign. On September 1, 2016, Novak appeared as a guest on “The Ellen DeGeneres Show.” When asked about the leather bracelet he’s frequently worn since entering public life, Novak said it’d been a gift from Winchester, who won it for him in a carnival game. Following the interview, the White House photo office has begun releasing official media of Novak and Winchester. The photograph of Novak kissing Winchester’s cheek in the Diplomatic Room has been featured by major news outlets including _Time_ and _The New York Times_.

 

 

With the smooth integration of Dean’s existence into the campaign, it becomes increasingly easy for Dean and Cas to interact in front of the cameras. Dean travels with Cas to every rally and stays on the stage for some, and when his vacation time at Colt runs out, he files a temporary leave of absence. He meets Jo when she flies back from Denver and instantly takes a liking to her. They have dinner with her husband Ash and their six-year-old daughter Rue who tells Dean all about the books she’s reading. 

He regularly calls his mom, who sounds both happy and worried for him – happy because Dean seems relaxed, and worried because she, too, remembers how upset he’d been after Cas left. Sam mellows out somewhat, which is undoubtedly thanks to Eileen, who sends Dean a video message where she signs, ‘You look happy.’

And the thing is, Eileen is right. Even when Dean is exhausted from endless press and sleeping in transit, being with Cas reignites the feelings he’d buried over the years and he finds himself energized, laughing more, certainly _blushing_ more than he has in a while. Cas has no qualms with showing his affection, whether that’s smiling back at him on stage or dropping frequent, chaste kisses on Dean’s lips. The media are in a frenzy, tracking the two of them like a cast of hawks. It’s a riot the day Charlie finds a PopSugar article titled, “14 President Novak and Dean Winchester Moments That Were Too Much to Handle.” 

The frenzy, however, is nothing compared to the day Dean opens an Instagram account. 

“I dunno if I can be trusted with this,” Dean says weakly as he stares at his phone. Kevin’s been explaining how hashtags work and it’s all going over Dean’s head, while Alfie insists that Dean won’t even _need_ hashtags given the number of followers he’ll have. 

“Don’t worry, Dean, we’ll help you,” he says, smiling sweetly with his huge, blue eyes. “Just- Throughout your day, think about what might make a good picture or be a fun thing to capture. Like, there’s another fundraiser dinner tonight, so there’ll be plenty of Kodak moments.” 

“Just be sure to slap a filter on them,” Kevin says, “Slumber’s a nice one, or Gingham.” 

“… Gingham?” 

Alfie laughs, “Let’s get a photo first and then we’ll worry about filters and hashtags, okay?” 

Dean still isn’t convinced that he should foray into social media, although with Dick Roman spewing nonsense on Twitter, the public could use a deflection. He spends the morning brainstorming ideas, interrupted only to accompany Cas to a local high school. After Cas speaks at the school-wide assembly, they visit a couple of classes, one of which is physics. Cas, knowing that this is Dean’s element, casually steps aside to let Dean talk about his work. 

In theory, the selfies Dean takes with the students afterward are probably be Instagram-worthy – Kevin’s words, not his – but Dean wouldn’t feel comfortable putting the kids’ faces online for so many to see. So, he waits till later that evening when they’re getting ready for the fundraiser, when he crosses the hallway between his room and Cas’ and finds Cas holding a tie up against his shirt. 

The fabric is striped in blue and grey and makes Cas’ eyes look incredible – and Dean, without overthinking it, pulls out his phone and starts recording. “I like that one,” he says, walking closer to where Cas is standing. 

Cas turns to him, tie now draped around his neck, and asks, “Not the darker blue?” It’s kind of adorable. 

“Nah,” Dean smiles, wondering if his voice reflects the expression. “I think I prefer this one,” he says. 

Cas quirks a smile. “If my date says so.” 

Dean stops filming and lowers his phone. “Sorry, I’m- I’m apparently on Instagram now.” He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I meant what I said though. I like that tie on you.” 

Cas cocks his head as he knots the tie, nimble fingers moving fluidly and effectively distracting Dean. “Instagram, huh?” he says, amused. “How P.G. are we talking here?” 

Dean startles, fumbling with his phone. “I assume, um, fairly P.G.” 

“Right,” Castiel replies, hints of mischief coloring his smile. He takes his suit jacket off its hanger and approaches Dean. “Ready when you are.” 

“I…” Dean’s cheeks are flushed. “Sure, ah, I’m all set.” 

“Great,” Cas murmurs quietly, before leaning in to cover Dean’s lips with his own. 

They haven’t kissed in private like this – not when they are completely alone. Secret Service is outside, of course, but now it’s just him and Cas in Cas’ bedroom. 

His breath hitches when Cas drops the jacket to cradle Dean’s face between both of his hands. He seems to kiss with his entire body and it makes Dean whimper against his mouth. 

Cas must mistake the sound for distress because he breaks the contact and lowers his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I know we haven’t- I should have asked.” 

“It’s okay.” Dean touches his fingertips to his lips. They’re hot and a little slick and a shiver runs down his spine. “Are we…” he trails off, searching for words he wants. “Are we doing this?” he asks eventually. “Are we starting over, Cas?” He blushes when Cas comes closer again, expression so earnestly hopeful. “I can be your boyfriend in public, a-and do all the press stuff and social media and whatever… but I can’t do _this_ without knowing that you’re gonna stay. I don’t think I could- I can’t go through that a second time.” 

“Dean,” Cas reaches out, wrapping his arms tightly around Dean’s shoulders. He buries his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. “Dean, I never stopped wanting to be with you.” 

“Cas,” Dean breathes shakily, his own arms winding around Cas’ waist. It’s like their bodies were made to fit – seamless even after all these years. “I was… God, Cas, I was so _angry_ when you left, I…” 

“I know,” Cas kisses his cheek, almost protective in his embrace. “I know, Dean. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” his voice is rough. The strong, coiled muscles of his arms are sturdy where they keep Dean close, but Dean can also feel him trembling too, because the tension that’s built and _built_ between them has finally broken, leaving them on the cusp of a new beginning.

Neither is sure how long they stand there, relearning the warmth of each other’s bodies, but they’re interrupted by a polite series of knocks on the door and, “Sir, it’s a quarter to seven.” 

Dean laughs into Cas’ shirt. “We’re gonna be late, Mr. President.” 

Cas hides a smile in the tufts of Dean’s hair before pulling away and taking Dean’s hand. 

In the car, Dean posts the video with Charlie’s help and incessant teasing. He selects a filter like Kevin suggested and captions his post, ‘Getting ready for dinner.’ He leaves his phone with Charlie while he attends the dinner, so he won’t be tempted into checking it. When he reopens the app three hours later, he has ten million followers.

 

 

The sharp angles of Cas’ shoulders relax when he enters the residential part of the White House, the strain from being watched lifting from his body as he dares to slouch and loosen his tie. Once he reaches his room, he turns to Dean and carefully lifts a brow in question. They’ve been exchanging shy smiles all evening. 

“Would you like to come in?” 

Dean stills, gaze traveling over Cas’ hair – perpetually untamable despite the efforts of stylists – to the arresting blue of his eyes and that sexy, five o’clock shadow. Twenty-seven years have made a big difference in his build, demeanor, and aura, but perhaps thanks to the daily runs Dean has seen penciled into Cas’ schedule, Cas is still mouthwatering to look at and it’s no wonder his bachelorhood stirred so much talk. 

“Sure,” Dean says quietly, following Cas through the doors and letting them shut behind him. 

The tie Dean liked so much ends up on the dresser in a neat little roll. Cas leaves his jacket on the chair in front and comes back to Dean in just his shirt and slacks. “Was the dinner alright?” he tilts his head, and Dean wants to kiss the notch at the base of his throat. “We could get some food if you’re still hungry.”

Dean shakes his head. “No, I’m okay.” He walks up to Cas and locks their eyes, relishing the quiet they’ve been granted once more. He touches Castiel’s cheek, fingertips stroking against his skin. “I missed you,” he confesses shyly. “It’s hard to believe how long it’s been.” 

Cas closes his eyes then opens them slowly, relieved to find that this moment is real. That Dean is here, smiling at him, and it’s only for Cas to tuck away and treasure. “I missed you too,” he echoes and leans closer, watching Dean’s eyelids lower and his mouth part irresistibly. Dean lets Cas kiss his supple mouth and slip an arm around his inviting waist. Tiny moans escape his throat, noises that ghost over Castiel’s skin. “Dean,” Cas breathes out harshly, untucking Dean’s shirt and sliding a hand underneath, mapping out the contours of Dean’s gorgeous body and basking in the warmth that radiates from him.

Cas leads them away, closer to his bed, crossing the carpet in a passionate haze. Dean follows breathlessly, hands firm on Cas’ arms, pressing up against him and driving Cas mad with each kiss. He wonders if this is too much, too fast, trying to think of something to say to put the brakes on this, slow it down a bit. But then Dean pushes back, rubs the hard line of him along Castiel’s, and all Cas can think is _oh, god, yes_ and bite Dean’s lip and pull him close. 

The noise Dean makes when they slot together shoots down Cas’ spine like a bolt of lightning, and then they’re on the bed in a tangle of limbs with Dean’s hips riding up into Cas’ erection. God, he could come like this, Cas thinks almost deliriously, gasping hot into the crook of Dean’s neck. He’s so wound up and Dean is so beautiful and, shit, they’re dry humping like a couple of kids. 

“Dean,” he grits out sharply before lifting his head to peer at Dean’s face. His eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed and rosy, fingers clenched in Cas’ shirt as he waits for him to speak. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned. 

Cas caresses his cheek. “We should… maybe wait.” When Dean widens his eyes and looks a little scared, Cas is quick to kiss his forehead. “I just think it should be special.”

“Yeah?” Dean murmurs softly, sinking back into the pillows and bringing Cas with him. “When did you become such a romantic, huh?” 

Cas knows that Dean is teasing but his heart is too full and beating too fast. “When I found you again,” he says, because he doesn’t want to spend time on anything but the absolute truth. 

Dean sucks in a breath, surprised. He looks incredible on Cas’ sheets. Eventually, the corner of his mouth curls up and he tells Castiel, “I’m not complaining.” 

It’s cute and sweet and honest and Cas smiles at him, pleased and content. “Will you stay?” he asks cautiously, wanting nothing more than to lie next to Dean in the dark. 

“You… want me here? Just to sleep?” Dean asks. 

“Yes, if that’s alright with you.” 

Dean smiles. “Yeah. It is.” 

It takes them a moment to untangle themselves, both still half-hard and eager for soft, lingering touches. “I may need a second,” Castiel laughs, linking a finger with Dean’s on the bed. 

“Me too,” Dean whispers back, his racing pulse beginning to slow. “We should also change,” he adds lazily. “I shouldn’t sleep in this monkey suit.” 

Cas nods and pulls himself up, leaving Dean a little colder and alone on the bed. It’s worth it when he reappears in just his boxer briefs and nothing else. He smirks brazenly at Dean’s heated stare then hands him a t-shirt that says Harvard Law. “I thought you wanted to change,” he murmurs lowly, feigning nonchalance. 

Dean sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “Well, you’re kind of distracting.” He finally sits up to unbutton his shirt and hears the hitch in Castiel’s breath. 

“Speak for yourself,” Cas shakes his head, watching Dean’s shirt fall slowly to the floor. When Dean’s hands go downward to unbuckle his pants, Cas clears his throat, heat flashing in his eyes. “That’s very underhanded,” he accuses weakly, as though he isn’t bare-chested and muscular and _fuck_ \- Like he doesn’t make Dean go weak in the knees. 

Dean huffs as he tugs on the shirt and slips in between the duvet and cool, ironed sheets. Any indignant feelings fade when Castiel joins him and they’re lying there, facing each other. In the golden light, Castiel’s eyes appear more intense than they usually do, reminding Dean of that day in July at the top of the Ferris wheel, surrounded by sunset. 

“Come here,” Cas pulls him closer until Dean’s head is resting on Castiel’s chest. 

“This is nice,” Dean mumbles sleepily, nosing the line of Cas’ collarbone. 

“Tired?” Castiel asks, his fingers trailing down the length of Dean’s arm. Sleep has wound its way into his voice as well, making it rougher and attractive as hell.

“Kind of,” Dean shivers a little, his body relaxed but mind still wandering. Now that he and Cas are curled into each other, no cameras or agents or motorcades, he recalls a question that used to nag him, every time he heard people wonder about Cas’ personal life. “Cas,” he begins carefully. “How come- Why didn’t you ever date?” 

Cas doesn’t stop touching him but stiffens slightly. “I tried. It just never worked out.” 

“Oh,” Dean swallows hard. “Was it because…?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

Heat creeps up the back of Dean’s neck. “I couldn’t exactly think that without feeling like a dick.” He grumbles at Castiel’s laugh and blushes even more at the kiss in his hair. “You’re such a sap,” he ducks his head, refusing to look up until Cas lifts his chin.

“You know, in college I asked a guy out who looked like you. Was an asshole though.” 

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean protests, flustered, a part of him jealous of this doppelganger. It’s one of the most ridiculous feelings in the world, being torn between envy and flattery. “So, I’m better than this guy?” he says, since, if they’re going for embarrassment, he might as well head straight to his insecurities. 

Cas traces Dean’s jawline, fondness in his smile. “You’re irreplaceable.” 

Dean’s heartbeat rings in his ears and he decides they’re done with questions for now.

 

 

 **September 23, 2016 – The Ritz-Carlton, San Francisco, California**  

“Dinner in a hangar?” Dean grins amusedly, leaning back against the headboard. “That’s pretty quirky.” 

“We’re in San Francisco,” Castiel laughs. “It’s either that or a converted warehouse.” 

“You know, I could appreciate a man in uniform. Are you up for dressing as a pilot?”

“That might cause confusion about the job I’m going for.” 

“Mm, you’re right. I’ll wait till Halloween.” 

Cas makes a note in the margin of his speech, head nestled against Dean’s stomach. The breakfast tray still sits on their bed with chocolate croissants and coffee mugs. “How does this sound?” Cas holds up the paper, clearing his throat and lowering his pen. “We must move away from the regressive idea that anyone is exempt from the fight against racism. It is up to all of us to strive for equality and believe in its power, _necessity_ , and value. If you have been spared from marginalization, do not be complacent in your privilege. Use your voices to support your friends and partners, co-workers and neighbors. Help make a difference.” 

Cas’ voice fills the air with its quiet strength and Dean is hopelessly drawn to it. He also knows this is an excerpt Cas wrote himself and that makes him prouder. “I sort of want to kiss you.” 

“I don’t think that’s the reaction we want from the students at Stanford,” Cas blushes faintly. 

Dean hums thoughtfully as he threads his fingers through Cas’ hair, his expression dreamy. “Eh, I’m sure there’ll be a few in the audience who have crushes on you. You’re kind of hot.” 

“Really,” Cas huffs a laugh. “Well, too bad for them; I’m off the market.” 

“That you are,” Dean agrees happily before bending down to press their lips together.

They could’ve kept kissing until somebody knocked or an alarm went off on Castiel’s phone, but when they’re interrupted, it’s a call for Dean that he reluctantly breaks away from their kiss to take. 

“Hello?” he answers, breathless, realizing belatedly that he should’ve checked the number. Bela’s advised against unsaved contacts but this is his private cell – encrypted and all. 

“Hey, did I interrupt somethin’?” the caller laughs. “Wait, please don’t answer that.” 

“Benny?” Dean gasps in surprise. “What- How did you get my number?” 

“I’m good, Dean. Thank you for askin’,” Benny teases gently, “and I’ve got my ways. I _also_ heard that you’re in San Francisco. When are you there till? I’m in L.A.” 

“You’re stalking me now?” Dean wryly shoots back. He mouths to Cas, who’s staring with a frown, ‘I gotta take this’ before climbing out of bed. “We leave tomorrow, sometime in the morning.” 

“Where are you staying?” 

“The Ritz-Carlton.”

“Fancy,” Benny says approvingly. “Got time for a drink? I could fly to you.”

Dean enters the living room of the suite, then replies more quietly, “I don’t know if that’s smart.”

“Why, ‘cause I work for the enemy?” 

Dean chuckles good-naturedly. “Yeah, that would do it.”

“C’mon, Dean, I just wanna catch up. Talk about somethin’ else besides poll numbers.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like that time in college when I thought I could grow up to be an engineer.” 

“Oh, right, Dr. Wisdom’s class. You cried over the problem set.” 

“We went through hell, man.” 

“Hell for you,” Dean quirks his lips. “I got a citation.” 

“Fuck you,” Benny laughs, the drawl in his voice still very distinct. It was always a hit with girls he’d flirt with, of which there were many; that old Southern charm. “But honestly, spare half an hour? I mean, I offered to fly to you.” 

“And you never cease to sweep me off my feet, Lafitte.”

“Just a drink, Dean. No politics.” 

Something in Benny’s voice, with less of the bravado he saves for interviews, takes Dean back to their days being twenty-year-olds drinking four cups of coffee in the library. When they met, Dean never thought they’d become friends, what with Benny being a fratty quarterback from Louisiana. But Benny was the one who defended him when bigots – sometimes his teammates – tried to push Dean around for being gay. He may have partied hard and swore too much but he’d been a great roommate and one of Dean’s best friends. 

“No politics,” Dean says seriously. “We’ll have like a swear jar but for election talk.” 

“Deal,” he can hear Benny’s smile. “I can text you here, yeah? Have fun at the hangar.”

“Thanks, stalker,” Dean shakes his head. “Have a safe flight, Benny. See you later.”

He hangs up with a smile of his own, then turns to head inside where Cas is by the sink, mid-shave. He lifts his brow when Dean’s in the doorway, razor in the air, shaving cream along his jaw. “Who was that?”

“An old friend of mine from college,” Dean says. “He’s gonna be in town tonight, asked if I could get a drink.” 

Cas taps his razor on the rim of the sink, so the extra drips down the porcelain. “We’ll be back from the dinner at nine. Victor can drive you,” he holds out his hand.

Dean takes it and goes to Cas, reaches for the towel to clean him off. “I’ll be back within the hour,” he says. 

“Take your time,” Cas smiles crookedly. “Just come back before midnight and don’t lose your shoe.” 

“I promise,” Dean passes him the aftershave. God, Cas has gorgeous hands – and a sexy jawline. 

“Just a friend, right?” Cas pulls Dean close.

Dean laughs as he’s kissed. “Yes, Prince Charming.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So, I’ve been meaning to say that you seem really happy. You deserve it, Dean.”

They’re tucked away in a swanky bar, a speakeasy-type place with no real entrance, which is perfect for keeping far from sharp, prying eyes and anyone under thirty-five who’d be attached to their Snapchat. “Thanks, Benny,” Dean ducks his head, both cheeks pink. “He’s good to me.”

“He better be,” Benny takes a drink of his beer. “He’s the one, isn’t he? The one who screwed up.” To Benny’s credit, he’d never tried to ask why Dean moped so much every time they drank, but on a random Tuesday he’d come back from practice to find Dean staring at a cassette tape labeled _For Cas_. He left, returned with a six pack and a giant pizza from the nearest parlor, and he didn’t relent until Dean spilled his guts and cried enough tears to get it out of his system.

“Put two and two together, huh?”

“How many times can a guy date another named Cas? With blue eyes, no less.” 

“God, I mentioned his eyes?” 

“Oh, yeah. In iambic pentameter.”

Dean shoves at Benny’s shoulder. “No, I didn’t! Shut up.”

“Drunks make the best poets, darlin’,” Benny winks at him. “But he’s better now, right?”

“Much better,” Dean sighs theatrically, puts his chin in his hand. “A freaking dreamboat.”

“I regret everything,” Benny groans dramatically, but there’s mirth in his eyes as he clinks their glasses. 

They part ways after one drink as promised. Benny insists on driving him back. When he swipes into their suite, Cas is in bed, reading a report in a black leather portfolio. “Were you waiting up?” Dean teases lightly, dropping his clothes as he walks toward Cas. 

Castiel stares at the clothing on the floor then releases a sigh. “You’re a heathen, Dean.” 

“I’m adorable,” Dean slides into bed, letting Castiel wrap an arm around him. “You were waiting up,” he smiles beatifically. 

Cas sighs again fondly. “I was waiting up.” He sets the file aside then turns to face Dean. “I’m actually exhausted,” he leans in close. He kisses Dean’s neck in a lazy trail and sounds contented, already relaxed. 

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean’s eyes flutter shut. “You need your sleep. You’re an important guy.” 

“So, we’ll sleep,” Cas murmurs against his skin, and it’s sneaky and _devious_ and… Dean can’t find it in himself to care as Cas’ breathing evens out with his head on Dean’s shoulder.

 

 

It begin with their hotel line ringing loud and shrill at four in the morning. Given that they aren’t supposed to leave for another five hours, it seems excessive. Like a cause for alarm. 

Dean mutters a complaint and snuggles in closer while Cas fumbles for phone, mostly to make it stop. “Hello?” he answers roughly, becoming slightly more awake when he hears that it’s Bela. But it’s what he hears next that makes him sit up, which startles Dean into doing the same.

“Cas, what’s wrong?” he touches his arm, but Cas is stone still, crease between his brows. He hardly blinks when Dean switches on the light, responding to Bela with a simple “I understand.” He doesn’t look at Dean while he gets out of bed and walks into the en suite without a word.

Dean listens to the water run and fidgets with the sheets. Nothing good ever comes from 4am phone calls. Has someone been hurt? What the hell was going on? A million scenarios zip around in his mind. 

Within ten minutes, Cas emerges in slacks and a crisp, white button-down still open across his chest. He reaches for his watch sitting on the dresser. “Bela’s on her way with the rest of the staff.”

Dean shifts on his feet. “Will you tell me what’s happening?” 

Cas thumbs the bracelet on his opposite wrist. “There have been some new developments in the press.” 

“Cas, you don’t need to use your business speak with me, just-” 

“What’s the name of your friend that you saw last night?” 

“I, um… Benny. Why?” 

“Benjamin Lafitte,” Cas finally looks at him. “Do you know what he does for a living, Dean?” 

“Oh,” Dean lowers his eyes. “I- I know that he works for the Roman campaign.” 

“You knew,” Cas’ voice is flat. “You knew Lafitte is on Roman’s staff and you still met with him, is what you’re saying.” 

“He was my closest friend in college! We didn’t even talk about… I only said…” _I told him how much you mean to me_. _How much I love you_. 

Dean bites back the words. 

“There’s a photo of you… getting out of his car,” Cas sounds resigned and terribly distant. It’s somehow worse than him being angry and Dean wishes he’d never accepted Benny’s call in the first place. “I believe you, Dean, I know you wouldn’t…” Cas runs a frustrated hand through his hair. He’s opening his mouth to say something else when his phone lights up and chirps on the nightstand. He peeks at the text, frowning again. “They’re on their way up now. You should get dressed.” 

Neither speaks until two minutes later when the team arrives to solve the mess Dean’s made. 

Bela immediately paces the room, mind already alert, appearance impeccable. Dean absently wonders if she ever sleeps then thinks she probably would be had he not fucked up. 

“The first debate is in less than two days and they’re saying you’re a mole for the Roman campaign – that you’re sleeping with Lafitte, sleeping with _Roman_. Did it not occur to you that this could happen?” 

“I trusted Benny. I still do,” Dean says. 

Bela huffs. “That’s all very quaint.” 

“We’re being unfair. Part of this is our fault. We should’ve done a background on who Dean was meeting.” 

“He does P.R. for Roman, Charlie. It’s not our fault Dean lacked common sense.” 

“Nothing happened. The rumors don’t have substance and the photo’s not enough. They’ll die out fast.” 

“It doesn’t matter. The damage is done.” 

“We just need to get our facts-” 

“No one cares about facts.” 

“They will,” Cas cuts in sternly, “because that’s all I’ll respond with if I’m asked about this. Dean met his friend for drinks in the city last night. They didn’t discuss politics and he dropped Dean off.” He doesn’t wait for any response or reaction from his staff. “I’ll see you all at nine when we leave for D.C.” 

Bela nods, having schooled her expression, while Charlie rounds up the team and steers them out the doors. It’s deafeningly silent once they’re gone, smothering the space in quiet tension. Cas returns to the bedroom without him and Dean hesitates, ridden with guilt. When he’s at the threshold, he finds Cas slumped over the bed with his head in his hands. “I’m still upset with you,” he says. Dean feels his heart clench at the pain in his voice. 

“I’m sorry,” he manages weakly, because nothing he says will fix this right now. 

“Be sure to get some rest,” Cas tells him softly, not bothering to change before lying back down.

It takes Dean a long time for his eyes to close, and even then, his sleep is restless.

 

 

**September 26, 2016 – Hofstra University, Hempstead, New York**

In the twenty-four hours following the incident, Dean abruptly goes from media darling to – what he perceives to be – a thorn in the campaign’s side. He’s called a mole, a cheater, a slut, but worst of all a liability to Castiel. No one can deny or find an alternate explanation to the sudden drop in poll numbers. It’s not an ideal position to be in going into the first debate, but Cas preps relentlessly and only rests when he’s forced to take a break. 

The short flight from D.C. to New York is the first time in two days that Dean has seen Cas sleep. He’d waited up for Cas the past two nights but fallen asleep before Cas came back. He was also gone before Dean woke up, the warm, rumpled sheets the only sign that he’d slept there. It isn’t rocket science; Cas is avoiding him, though Dean understands that Cas needs space. 

That doesn’t stop him from wedging a pillow between Cas’ head and the cabin wall, or reaching for the blanket in the overhead bin to drape over Castiel when it gets a little chilly. He notices Bela, watching him, eyes slightly softer than how they’d been. She doesn’t say anything and neither does he, but she asks for the overhead lights to be dimmed. 

In the green room set aside for them, Bela claps Cas on the shoulder. “Wipe the floor with him.” It’s surprisingly effective at breaking the tension as the staff start laughing and nodding their heads. 

“Thank you,” Castiel smiles before moving past Bela to stop in front of Dean. There are eyes on them, watching curiously; they haven’t really spoken since San Francisco.

Cas doesn’t say anything now, except to lean forward and kiss the corner of Dean’s mouth. It’s soft and a little bit fleeting, but it feels like forgiveness and Dean is grateful for it. “Good luck,” he murmurs back, his fingertips brushing over Castiel’s bracelet. “You’re going to do great,” he adds because he can, because it makes Cas smile ever so slightly. “I will see you after,” Castiel says, and then he’s out the door and onto the stage. Dean can hear the cheering even from here as he’s escorted to the family box. 

True to his words, Cas knocks them dead, trouncing Roman on almost every question. By the end of the ninety minutes, Cas looks calmer than he has in days. The biggest shock of the evening, however, is Roman’s omission of Dean entirely, and apart from accusing Cas of obliterating the sanctity of marriage, Roman doesn’t mention their relationship at all. 

Dean watches Cas shake hands with Roman before thanking the moderator and stepping onto the stage. Cas is already there to kiss and embrace him and manages to smile when Dean greets Roman.

Roman, Dean notes with a shudder, has a shark-like smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and though his voice may be low like Cas’, it carries no warmth or sincerity. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Winchester,” he smirks with a mocking glint in his dark brown eyes. There’s no way he hasn’t seen the tabloids, so why didn’t he cite them? What is he thinking? 

It’s a relief when they leave the event. It’s like he can breathe again, not be so scared. He stays close to Cas, who reaches for his hand and says more with that gesture than words ever could.

 

 

[Edit] From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia for **Castiel Novak**

Novak was the decisive winner of the First Presidential Debate, which was held at Hofstra University in eastern New York and focused primarily on domestic issues. It was notable that his opponent, Richard Roman, did not mention the incident from a few days’ prior, where Benjamin Lafitte of Roman’s P.R. team was photographed with Winchester in San Francisco. Despite the fact that Lafitte and Winchester are longtime friends and neither disclosed details of their respective campaigns, it was predicted that the rumors alone would bring repercussions for Novak’s image. Novak did not release an official statement on the incident, and Winchester has continued to accompany him on the campaign trail. At the rally held on October 6, 2016 in Cincinnati, they were joined by Winchester’s mother Mary, younger brother Sam, and sister-in-law Eileen.

 

 

 **October 6, 2016 – Eden Park, Cincinnati, Ohio**  

Sam leans back against the cushions, the beer Cas passed him tucked in one hand. “How long has it been, man?” he smiles easily. “I think I was like _twelve_ the last time I saw you.” 

“You were definitely shorter,” Castiel laughs, “and neither of us was old enough to drink.” 

“But here we are,” Sam raises the bottle. “We’re proud of you, Cas. You’re kind of a badass.” 

“Thank you,” Cas ducks his head. “I appreciate you coming out here with Mary and Eileen. Your wife is lovely, by the way,” he adds. 

“Yeah, she is. I’m a really lucky guy.” Sam places his beer in the cup holder, and sits up straighter, more serious. “Hey, speaking of…” he trails off, like he didn’t begin right. He frowns and starts over. “Look, I’ve been reading all the stuff about Dean- You know it isn’t true, right? Benny’s just a friend.” His expression is uncertain, hazel eyes wide, as puppy-like as they used to be when they were younger. 

“Sam,” Cas holds his gaze, because Sam needs to know that he means every word. “Losing Dean was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made, and I don’t intend to do it again over a tacky headline or blown-up truth. And I don’t know what Roman is planning or why he hasn’t attacked me directly with Dean as leverage, but if there’s anything I’ve learned in politics it’s that you need to know who to trust – and I trust Dean.” 

Sam releases a breath like he’d been holding it, the stiffness in his shoulders slowly seeping out. He picks up his bottle to take another swig, then picks at the label with a quirk of his lips. “You know, I called Dean crazy when you got back together?” 

Cas can’t help but laugh. “I don’t really blame you.” 

Sam shrugs helplessly with a smile. “He loves you. You know that, right?” 

“I do, and it’s mutual.” 

“I’d give you the ‘make him cry and I hurt you’ speech, but I have a feeling that’s probably a felony.” 

“What’s a felony?” Dean interjects, standing in the doorway of the motorhome. His eyes are bright, cheeks pink from the cold, and his words come muffled behind his knit scarf. “You getting into trouble, Sam?” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “No, we’re just catching up.” 

Dean looks at him then over at Cas, who merely tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Mom and Eileen are ready to leave when you’re done being weirdos. Both of you. Don’t hit your head when you stand up, Sammy.” 

“Hate you too, Dean.” 

“Whatever, you love me.”

Sam gives Cas a meaningful look before passing his brother to get through the door, leaving the two of them to linger in the motorhome and glance shyly at each other in the subsequent silence. Things have gotten better in the past few days, aided by the endless stream of appearances. Awkwardness is difficult to maintain when they’re constantly holding hands and being affectionate. 

“I asked an aide to get us some cider.” He lowers the part of the scarf that covers Dean’s mouth. “Are you warm enough in there?” he teases, the fondness flaring deep inside his chest. 

“Warmer now,” Dean tells him softly, “but cider would be awesome too.”

Cas chuckles and nods toward the door. “Let’s get you some then.” He feels warmer already.

 

 

 **October 9, 2016 – Washington University in St. Louis, St. Louis, Missouri**  

The second debate quickly proves to be far more grueling than the first, with hardball questions from undecided voters and Roman’s stream of snide remarks. Any façade of Roman’s civility from the first debate is gone. He’s every bit the ruthless businessman beneath a veneer of eerie calm.

The trouble begins when a voter asks about the candidates’ commitment to working-class families. Cas answers first by touching on healthcare, better paid maternity leave, and higher minimum wage. The voter looks satisfied when they turn to Roman, who takes a leisurely sip from his bottled water, before walking slowly to the center of the stage to stare the question asker straight in the eye. 

“My previous issue with President Novak was his failure to build a relationship. It was beyond me how he could related to anyone besides, well, bachelors. That was all before Mr. Winchester, Ghost of Boyfriend Past, strolled into the picture with impeccable timing. And for a while there, it was America’s sweethearts, making you believe you’d get a family this time if you put him in the White House a second time.” He shakes his head, somewhat theatrical, then turns to point his gaze at Cas. “It’s all a bit rusty, though, isn’t it? This time, it’s Mr. Winchester who can’t commit.” 

Cas stares at him sternly. “I’m afraid you aren’t making much sense, Mr. Roman.” 

“Maybe not to you, President Novak. Were you aware he was meeting one of mine?” Roman peers at him, like he’s trying to find a crack in Cas’ demeanor. “The question isn’t whether the meeting was romantic, it’s whether you knew the details of Mr. Winchester’s plans. President Novak, in true committed relationships, partners tell one another these things. That’s how it works in families. My wife and I would know. Oh, and I didn’t happen to find her three months before the election.” 

“Mr. Roman, your time is up.” 

There’s an uncomfortable silence on stage that pervades throughout the entire room. The audience is fidgeting since they’re not allowed to speak and the sound of the moderator clearing his throat seems unnaturally loud as it cuts through the quiet. “Next, we have a question from Isabelle Pritchett. Mr. President, you’ll be the first to answer.”

It’s obvious that Roman’s words affect Cas’ ability to fully focus, like they have some sort of hold over his mind, plaguing him with worries surrounding Dean. For the most part, it’s undetectable – given Cas’ thick skin and experience – but to Dean and his staff who know him well, the debate doesn’t go nearly as well as the first. 

“I let him get under my skin,” Castiel admits when they’re back in the hotel. He looks frustrated and exhausted. Dean wishes everyone would leave so Cas can sleep.

“We still have one more debate,” Kevin gently reminds him, a bone-deep tiredness in his voice that’s seemingly shared by the rest of the team. “He refocused attention on the incident, though, and planted doubts about your relationship with Dean. If we don’t turn that doubt around, our original plan will backfire.” 

“Dean, is there any way Lafitte would’ve known about-” 

“He wouldn’t have heard it from me.” 

Bela’s eyes soften. “I wasn’t implying.” 

Dean stares at his hands. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

Bela stands and gauges the room before peeking at her watch with a thoughtful frown. “I think we could all use some rest right now. Let’s meet back here at six. We’ll have breakfast and coffee.” The staff members dissipate, one by one, each stopping to say something encouraging to Cas. Dean watches each interaction, sees the obvious respect they have for Cas, and feels a dread in the pit of his stomach because he could honestly ruin everybody’s hard work. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Cas says when they leave, getting up from the couch and undoing his tie. “I could also eat. Are you hungry at all?” 

Dean smiles despite himself. “I’ll order us burgers.” 

“Perfect,” Cas drops his tie before tugging Dean forward for a soft, sweet kiss. “It isn’t your fault, what happened tonight. I’ve got a great team. We’ll find a solution.” 

“I know, Cas, I just…” Dean sighs. “I don’t want to be an obstacle.” 

“Who says you are?” Cas cups his cheek. “Don’t tell me you’re choosing to believe _Us Weekly_ over me.” 

“No, of course not,” Dean kisses him back. His worries seem to fade during moments like these. Emboldened, he pulls Cas closer to feel his heartbeat against his own. He could do this, couldn’t he? Hold onto Cas, not lose him this time. He may not have had the chance to fight for him before, but fate must’ve brought them together for a reason. He couldn’t let someone like Roman scare him away, not after all the years he’s spent missing Cas.

 

 

 **October 15, 2016 – The White House, Washington, D.C.**  

Dean meets Michael on a cloudless Tuesday when the governor flies down from Boston to visit his brother. Cas is in high spirits as they wait in the Red Room, squeezing Dean’s hand, a smile on his lips. Michael arrives in a sharp, grey suit and a flurry of staff buzzing around him like bees. His grin turns brilliant when he spots Castiel and pulls him into a hug that makes Cas laugh. The scene reminds Dean of him and Sam, reuniting in airports on either coast, and that eases his nervousness when Cas introduces them before walking to dinner. 

“Governor Novak,” he shakes Michael’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” 

“Same to you, Dean, and ‘Michael’ is fine. I’m just here as Cas’ brother this weekend.”

Their dinner back in the residence is filled with no shortage of childhood stories, courtesy of all-too-enthusiastic Michael and an equally mortified Castiel. Dean is in the middle of laughing at a Halloween misadventure when Cas is called away for a phone call in his office, leaving Dean and Michael to sit in the quiet that usually follows a lively conversation. 

“I’ve got to say,” Michael puts down his spoon, letting it clink against the crystal holding his mousse. “We were all surprised to hear your name again, Dean, especially so close to Cas’ election.” He reaches for his chardonnay, though he chooses to study Dean in lieu of taking a sip. “Is it serious, what you have here with Cas? Or would you say it’s just a repeat of that ridiculous summer?” 

Dean nearly gets whiplash from his sudden change in tone, going from warm to icy in a few seconds flat. Even his expression is completely impassive, no sign of the friendliness that was there before. “I wouldn’t have agreed to be with Cas if we weren’t serious,” he says. “There’s too much at stake for him.” 

Michael’s reaction is furious. 

“So, you do have some idea of how much Cas has to lose, and yet you insist on sticking around and do nothing but jeopardize his chances.” 

“Michael, I-” 

“I’m not finished. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if Mother hadn’t stepped in all those years ago. And because she did, he’s who he is now. He tried to _stay_ with you. We couldn’t believe it.” Michael’s laugh is cold, his smile distant. “Cas refused to talk to her for months. But if there’s anyone in our family who can match his tenacity, it’s our mother. He came to his senses.”

Dean’s head is spinning. He’d had no idea that Naomi Novak had been in town. He remembers the night Cas had come to his house, eye wet and lips so urgent to kiss Dean everywhere he could reach. Was that why- God, why hadn’t he- It all makes sense now and Dean’s heart is breaking. 

“Look at how far he’s come, Dean. He’s flourished; he has _everything_ to lose.” 

 _I know_ , Dean shuts his eyes, stomach sinking. _I know better than anyone_.  

“He isn’t a kid anymore; not even Mother can convince him now. He won’t believe you’re a liability unless you tell him yourself, unless you leave him.” 

“You would… You’d rather let me hurt him than-” 

“You’d hurt him worse by staying with him.” Michael finally takes a drink from his glass, looking like he wishes there were something stronger in there instead. “We have all made sacrifices, Dean – every single one of us – to be where we are. Loveless marriages, preselected friends, emotions have no place in politics.” 

“Michael, don’t ask me to do this. Please. I love your brother.”

“Then you’ll know what’s best for him, Dean,” Michael says sternly, unsympathetic. “As long as you’re around, he’ll have a weakness. You’re leverage they can use against him. He’s lost you once, Dean. He can a second time. And when he wins in November, he’ll learn to move on.”

 

 

“You’ve been quiet since dinner,” Cas says, wrapping his arms around Dean from behind. “Is something wrong?” he asks, concerned, so earnest Dean can hardly breathe. 

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he lies. 

“You and Michael seemed to get along well.” 

Dean laughs, a wet, breathy thing, then turns in Cas’ arms so their foreheads touch. “What day is it tomorrow?” he asks. 

Cas tilts his head. “Sunday. Why?” 

“What’s your schedule like in the morning?” 

“Nothing till nine, as far as I know.” Cas brushes his fingertips along Dean’s wrist. “Penny for your thoughts?” he smiles crookedly. It’s sweet and handsome and _Cas_ and suddenly they’re sixteen in the back of Dean’s car… Why did Dean believe he could have this? Perhaps they were doomed from the start. 

“Dean?” Cas prompts him again, tethering Dean easily with his deep, blue eyes. Like not even his brother could manage to poison the sheer amount of love he carries for Dean. And seeing that ignites the greediest, most petty corner of Dean’s conflicted mind, and then he’s looking at Cas from beneath his lashes and pulling him closer, making it obvious what it is he wants. 

“Dean…” Cas’ eyes widen.

“I was thinking we could make good use of our time tonight.”

“I thought we agreed…” Cas trails off. His fingers flex where they are on Dean’s waist. 

“Being with you is what makes it special, Cas. I don’t need candles or rose petals.” 

“But if you wanted, I could get them for you.”

“I know, babe. You’re a real hotshot.” 

Cas wrinkles his nose at the pet name then peers at Dean, considering. “Are you sure that nothing’s the matter? You know I’ll wait, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.” 

 _It isn’t you I’m worried about_ , Dean touches Cas’ cheek, his five o’clock shadow. Cas, the love of his life. “Yeah, I’m really good, Cas.” 

When they kiss, it’s both soft and urgent, with Cas letting Dean control how fast they go, inviting him to come closer, find what he needs. His blue eyes are heated, slightly glazed over, when Dean pulls back to lead them to bed, and then the urgency is mutual, voiced in the desperate sounds that drop from their lips. 

Their mouths are hot and wet against each other, hands sliding under shirts, eager to touch. “Please,” Dean says inanely as Cas’ hand finds the button of his slacks.

Cas leans in to kiss him. “I’ve got you,” he says, low and protective and wonderful. He fluidly opens the buckle, curls his hand around Dean, staring down at him, and it’s so intense when Dean looks up that it takes his breath away. 

“Cas, please,” Dean pushes at his slacks. He needs this so badly. He needs his Cas. They haven’t been together, not like this, since they were just two kids who fell in love, and it’s insane how he can want someone – still love someone so persistently. 

Cas, as though he can tell that Dean is overwhelmed by his own thoughts, finishes helping him out of his clothes then kisses him so tenderly that it makes Dean want to cry. There are strong hands cradling his face, lips chasing his and whispering “I love you” over and over. Dean doesn’t think he could get enough and reaches for Cas the second he pulls away. “Wait,” Cas smiles back, unbuttoning his shirt to toss aside. Dean watches, impatiently, knowing it’ll be worth it when it’s skin on skin.

It’s even better when Cas kisses his way up Dean’s body, moving his lips along his stomach to his chest and his collarbone. Cas seems to focus every ounce of his concentration on making sure that Dean feels good, and when their lips meet in a slow, deep kiss, Dean’s nerves practically sing at the rough groan that escapes Cas’ throat.

Cas tries valiantly not to pull away as he leans over toward the nightstand, though they eventually have to relent for him to reach inside to grab the bottle of lube. Cas laughs at Dean’s expression, which is both amused and a little fond, responding with “What? A guy can hope” like the sappy romantic he is. 

He’s about to open the bottle when Dean reaches out to take it from him. He looks surprised but continues to watch, dumbstruck, as Dean takes his hand, flicks open the cap, and pours the liquid over his fingers. “Dean…” he breathes, overwhelmed, letting Dean slowly move his hand down to where he wants Cas’ fingers to be. And when he starts touching Dean, wasting no time to slide a finger inside, Dean moans and clutches his shoulders, hand back in Cas’ hair, messing it up. 

“Too much?” Cas kisses his throat, adding a second finger and curving both just right. His breathing is heavier like he’s restraining himself, which is so stupidly hot that Dean can’t stand it. He shakes his head, lets Cas keep going, so he can bask in how careful he is. There is no rush in how he opens Dean up, and it makes Dean’s toes curl against the sheets.

He slides his hands over Cas’ chest. He can’t stop touching him, feeling him. He spreads his legs wider, pressing their bodies closer together, relishes the sounds that rumble out of Cas as he gasps, “Cas, come on. I’m ready.” 

Cas lifts himself up, weight braced on his forearms, caging Dean in beneath his body and driving him mad with his gentle kisses. He distracts Dean long enough to get a condom from the nightstand drawer, only to be stopped by Dean’s hand on his wrist. “Dean?” he looks down in surprise. 

“I thought…” Dean begins shakily, his voice no more than a nervous breath. “I thought that maybe we wouldn’t use one.” 

Cas seems nothing less than stunned at the suggestion. “Dean, you don’t have to-” 

“I want to feel you,” Dean admits shyly, a flood of emotions catching up with him. “I’ve missed you for so long, Cas, and now we’re here and I just want… You have my heart. You have all of me, and I want to feel you. Will you let me?” 

He barely has a chance to catch Cas’ expression before they’re kissing again, all heat. Wonder, adoration, hunger, and Cas pours all of it into his kiss. He lets out a sound of blissful defeat when Dean wraps his still-slick fingers around his cock, slowly stroking him, making it wet, murmuring, “Now, Cas. Please,” pleading for more. 

When Cas finally pushes inside, Dean gasps sharply and throws his arms around his neck. He feels Cas’ muscles tighten beneath his hands and pushes up against him, wanting him deeper. Cas, of course, responds by moving slow, eyes darkened in pleasure as he looks down at Dean. He uses one hand to hitch Dean’s leg higher, making it easier to apply more pressure. 

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean keeps their gaze, relishes the shiver that runs through Cas. He whimpers when Cas lowers his body, filling him completely, pressing kisses to his throat. 

“Are you alright?” Cas asks him softly, running his hand from Dean’s hip down along his thigh, soothing him. He waits for Dean to nod before thrusting again, slow at first until he finds a rhythm, until they steal the breath right out of Dean’s lungs and have his cock leaking precome against his stomach. 

“God,” Cas whispers hotly. “You feel incredible,” he groans into Dean’s neck. It’s nearly too much. Dean draws a ragged breath and pushes down on his length again, body tensing when Cas hits a sweet spot and voice broken in desperation. 

“Fuck,” he grips Cas’ shoulders. It’s an onslaught of perfect sensation. He’s so close and Cas is a beast, slamming into him just like he needs, and then it’s that sudden, white-hot release, lighting up his nerves and making him cry out. “ _Cas_ , oh, god,” he gasps, cock spurting stickily between their chests. He can see Cas watching him, eyes wide, mouth parted, breaths coming in sharp, short pants as he continues to thrust through Dean’s orgasm. 

In his haze, Dean’s vaguely aware of Cas touching his cheek, his arm, his waist… but he definitely feels it when Cas tenses up, moaning loudly as he shudders and comes. 

Dean knows that he’d loathe to be share this kind of intimacy with anyone else, and despite all the endorphins pumping through his blood, he’s certain Cas is the one he was always meant to be with. 

“Dean…” Cas collapses against him, heart racing so powerfully that Dean could swear he hears it. He’s got one hand on the mattress and the other in Dean’s hair as he kisses him, and it’s so intense and loving and amazing that Dean feels completely lost. 

“I love you,” Cas says against his lips, and Dean shuts his eyes to will away the tears. 

“I love you, too,” he kisses Cas’ cheek. 

 _I don’t how I’ll let you go_.


	5. Chapter 5

“Charlie, do you have a minute?” Dean steps into the office, two coffees in hand.

The redhead waves from behind her computer before pulling off her headphones. “Sure, come on in.” Her eyes light up at the sight of caffeine, her smile pleased as she takes a long sip. “Are you trying to bribe me, Winchester? Because it’s totally working. What do you need?” 

“It’s something of a favor, yeah,” he sits down across from her, suddenly hesitant. 

She picks up on it right away. “Is everything alright? You can talk to me.” 

Dean stares at his hands like they’ll provide him with an answer. “I was just wondering…” he struggles to start. “What would happen if Cas and I… If I left?”

Charlie gasps, her drink forgotten. “Oh, no, what happened? Did he say something?” 

“No,” Dean is quick to assure her. “This is all on me. Not Cas’ fault.” 

“Okay,” she looks nervous now, “but what brought this on, Dean? We can deal with Roman.” 

“I’m sure you can,” Dean’s smile is sad, touched by Charlie’s efforts to comfort him. “But I’m doing more harm than good by being here, and I’ve already done enough damage to Cas’ campaign.” 

“Dean,” Charlie reaches for his hand. “Rumors are part and parcel of political campaigns. We can’t control the tasteless shit people say about you, and we expect that to happen. We work with it.” She studies Dean carefully as if to make sure he’s still listening before continuing on. “Now, Cas is happier than I’ve ever seen him. And I really believe that it’s thanks to you. It’s like he’s found a piece of him that was missing before and it’ll honestly shatter him if you guys broke up.” 

“We’re only pretending to date,” Dean gently reminds her. 

Her smile is rueful. “You really still think that? Dean, even the staff’s forgot how we found you in the first place. I don’t think a single second of your relationship was fake.” 

“The fact that I love him doesn’t matter,” Dean says. “I’m not good for him, Charlie. I’m getting in the way.” 

“Who told you that?” she says with a frown. “Tell me who it is, so I can kick their ass. We need you to be there for Cas, okay? He needs your support, Dean. He needs _you_.” 

“Charlie, what happened in St. Louis-” 

“Happens to every candidate. Cas will come back.” She squeezes Dean’s hand, her big eyes earnest. “Could you at least wait till we’re done in Denver? Sleep on it a few more nights? Don’t decide now. Please.” 

Dean really should’ve called her instead. Saying ‘no’ to someone’s face is a hundred times harder. “Alright,” he sighs, defeated. “You win. I won’t decide now.”

“That’s all I ask,” she says empathetically, and then with a wink, “and thanks for the coffee.”

 

 

**October 19, 2016 – University of Denver, Denver, Colorado**

If Cas had faltered in the second debate, he comes back swinging two weeks later in Denver. Roman is practically left in the dust while Cas charges on, each of his answers sharper and more eloquent than the last. Tensions run especially high in the final ten minutes, when the candidates argue ferociously over immigration laws. Cas spares no breath in exposing Roman’s bigotry, while Roman calls Cas a bleeding heart liberal. 

“Mr. President and Mr. Roman, thank you very much for a vigorous debate. We have now reached the end and it is time for closing statements. Mr. President, I believe you’re first.” 

Anticipation is high for what Cas will say, given how formidable he’d been throughout the night. All eyes and ears are focused on him as he smiles and thanks the moderator, Roman, the university. 

“For the past five hundred and sixty-five days, I’ve been campaigning for your vote in this coming election. And now that I have two minutes for a closing statement, I’m reminded just how precious that time truly is. In the past three debates, I’ve spoken about healthcare, national defense, higher education, and numerous other issues that are important to you, and therefore critical for me to fully understand. In the final minute I have, however, I’d like to talk about a subject close to my heart, because it will explain some things about me and my personal life that I think every one of you deserves to know.” 

“This is off-script,” Dean hears Bela whisper. 

His heart begins to hammer in his chest. 

“I’ve been a public servant for nearly half of my life, and while I would never trade that experience for the world, it led to sacrifices that hurt those around me. One of those people…” he smiles faintly. “One of those people is the love of my life.” 

Dean can barely breathe as he listens to Cas, who charges on, eyes locked on the camera. 

“See, I’d lost him once before – years ago, when we were just kids. And although I promised myself I wouldn’t screw up again, I still couldn’t protect him from getting hurt, or stop the rumors people spread about us. Except, this time, I’m not giving up, not on him or the happiness I feel by having him in my life. Regardless of naysayers, I’m prepared to fight for him. Because Dean, you have my heart. You have all of me. And I love you.” 

Despite the promise of the audience to remain quiet throughout the debate, the room erupts in noise the second he’s done, abuzz with gasps and shocked conversation. The moderator, visibly thrown, tries desperately to calm everyone down. It takes several minutes but he manages to reestablish the quiet for Roman’s statement. But by then, no one is really listening, their eyes moving back and forth between Dean and Cas. No one registers that Roman is irate, or that he’s accusing Cas of god knows what. It takes a backseat to what Cas has done: declaring his love for Dean to the world. 

Sounds from the audience overpower again when the moderator says ‘good night,’ some of them cheering when Dean and Cas meet halfway up the steps to the stage. 

Dean’s laugh is breathless, wonder in his eyes. “I can’t believe you just did that,” he says.

“You gave me no choice,” Cas smiles fondly. “I needed you to know how important you are.” 

“How am I supposed to top that, huh?” Dean wipes at his cheek, blushing and embarrassed. He doesn’t protest when Cas comes closer to gently thumb the tears away. “You got out of buying me flowers forever.” 

Cas sighs. “I’m still buying you flowers.” 

“Okay, _fine_ , but-” 

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?” 

“Just kiss me.”

So, Dean does.

 

 

[Edit] From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia for **Castiel Novak**

Following a lackluster Second Debate, held at Washington University in St. Louis, Novak successfully redeemed himself with a stellar Third Debate in Denver, Colorado. The most notable moment of the night was Novak’s closing statement, during which he stunned the audience and viewers nationwide by expressing his feelings for Winchester. His declaration of steadfast commitment rebutted Roman’s previous attacks, and his statement has been cited as both “historic” and “game-changing.” 

Four days after the debate, Lafitte appeared on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert,” defending Winchester against all rumors and speaking about their longtime friendship. He disclosed that he put in a two weeks’ notice after watching Roman in the Second Debate, and that Roman issued a gag order while his resignation was being processed. When asked about his Party affiliation, Lafitte stated, “I’m a vagabond. No affiliation. I worked for Roman because it was a job, which probably makes me a mercenary, but even mercenaries have a moral compass. Luckily, I used mine before it was too late.”

 

 

 **October 31, 2016 – The White House, Washington, D.C.**  

“Cas! Did you see Superman?” Dean’s grin is brilliant from where he’s crouched near the ground. Castiel smiles as he joins his boyfriend, holding out his hand to the little boy in line.

“Superman, thank you for coming,” he says as the boy high-fives his hand. He pretends to fall back with a loud exclamation, “Oh my god, you just knocked me right over!”

When he uprights himself again, the boy is staring, all starry-eyed. “You’re the P.O.T.U.S.,” he breathes, slack-jawed, while Dean puts a handful of candy in his jack-o-lantern bag. He tugs on his mother’s sleeve, repeating, “That’s the P.O.T.U.S.” as he looks up at Cas, who smiles kindly and says, “Keep keeping us safe” before high-fiving him again and waving goodbye. 

Next comes a little fireman then two ballerinas who look like twins, followed by a unicorn, a tiny Beyoncé, and three kids dressed like peas in a pod. But Dean’s absolute favorite is a little boy with dark brown hair and clear, blue eyes, who approaches them shyly in a light gray suit, complete with a tie and a donkey lapel pin. “Cas, it’s you!” he takes Cas’ hand, then beams at the boy. “Hello, Mr. President.” 

“Hi,” the little boy blushes and it’s just about the cutest thing that Dean’s ever seen. 

“What’s your name?” Dean smiles at him.

The boy smiles back. “It’s Sam,” he says. 

“Really? My brother’s named Sam!” Dean holds out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.” The child’s hand feels tiny compared to his own. “So, how’d you decide on your costume?”

“Um,” Sam frowns in thought. “‘Cause I think he’s gonna win the big voting contest. And my dads always tell me he fights for them, and I really love my dads a lot.” It’s only then that Dean spots his parents, the two men side by side smiling proudly behind him. They’re wearing matching rings and Mickey Mouse ears and it makes his heart swell and his throat close up. “Well, I hope you have a very Happy Halloween, Sam,” he grabs a fistful of candy to give to the boy. His parents nod gratefully before taking Sam’s hands, letting him swing their arms as they walk to the Lawn. 

Dean can’t help but watch them for a beat, enraptured by the picture they make together. It’s when solid arms wrap around him from behind that Dean is brought back, heart stuttering, cheeks flushed. “You alright?” Castiel asks, “Batman’s here; I thought you’d like to meet him.” 

Dean laughs and takes Cas’ basket. “Yeah, absolutely. Lead the way.”

 

 

[Edit] From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia for **Castiel Novak**  

On November 8, 2016, Novak won 332 electoral votes and was successfully reelected as president. He gave his victory speech in Boston, Massachusetts, joined on stage by Harvelle, their respective families, and Winchester, who had accompanied him all evening. Novak thanked his supporters and campaign team for believing in him and his vision for the nation: “I feel more inspired than ever about the work lying ahead for my administration.”

He also called Harvelle a “trailblazer who changed the game for female politicians in America. She’s constantly shattering glass ceilings and I’m extremely fortunate to have her on my team.” Harvelle, during her own remarks, described Cas as an “incredible person who I think the world of.” She added that, since meeting Winchester, he and Novak have become her “favorite couple, as insufferably in love as they are.”

 

 

 **November 9, 2016 – The White House, Washington, D.C.**  

Dean shudders out a breath as he leans back down, letting his fingertips trail over Cas’ bare chest. The morning sunlight that filters in casts the most alluring glow on Cas’ skin. “We only have an hour,” Dean says into a kiss, his voice a quiet murmur in the small space between them. Castiel presses his hands more firmly on Dean’s hips then slides them along his thighs, making Dean shiver. 

They’re both running on scant amounts of sleep, exhausted and exhilarated – but finally alone. After collapsing into bed last night, they woke up this morning eager to touch; Cas is going to relish this as much as he can until they have to be up.

“That’s enough time,” he groans against Dean’s mouth, tightening his grip to hold Dean in place. It feels good, Dean’s weight on his hips, straddling him. He can’t get enough. 

“Really?” Dean nips at his lips. “We’ll need to shower, get dressed… and eat…” He nuzzles Cas’ cheek, stubble rasping his skin. “I don’t know if we can… Mm, maybe we should stop.” 

“I don’t think so,” Castiel growls, a sound that rumbles from deep in his chest. He moans helplessly when Dean pulls up and slides back down, all slick around his cock. Dean’s eyes flutter shut before opening again, looking down at Cas who’s watching in awe. Cas is on his back, letting Dean ride him, dragging out groans with every roll of those hips. “Fuck,” he curses harshly, because it’s almost too much, too amazing to stand. He can’t really imagine how it can get better, but then Dean bends forward with a purposeful smile.

He plants a hand on either side of Cas’ head and moves a little faster, urging Cas on. “Come on,” he whimpers softly. “Oh, fuck, you feel so good.” His breath catches in a blissful smile and then they’re kissing again, hungry for each other. When Cas thrusts upward, seeking more of that wet, delicious heat, Dean tears his mouth away and moans out loud, burying his face in Castiel’s neck. Cas feels just as wrecked and helpless from having Dean so tight and hot around him, and it’s when Dean’s breathing begins to stutter that he reaches down to wrap his hand around Dean’s cock.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean pleads with him, moving faster and harder as he pushes back. “God-” he bites back a moan, letting Castiel touch him along with his thrusts. It doesn’t take much more for him to come this way, and Cas feels his release splatter over his knuckles. He’s not able to last after that, not with how Dean tenses up so wonderfully. He clutches at Dean through his shaking climax and his world seems to narrow to this one, single moment, but what follows is even sweeter when Dean rests his cheek against Castiel’s chest. 

“I thought you said we had to get up,” Cas teases as he runs his fingers through Dean’s hair. “We were short on time when I last checked in.” 

“Five more minutes,” Dean says sleepily. 

The ‘getting ready’ that comes afterward is routinely interrupted by impromptu kisses. It’s Cas crowding Dean against the sink, or Dean pulling Cas in by the front of his sweater. At one point, they end up in bed again, Cas laying Dean down against the rumpled sheets. “Hang on,” Dean smiles widely, reaching over for his phone on top of the nightstand. “I want to remember this,” he explains, blushing harder when Castiel takes it and captures them both in their intimate moment.

 

 

[Edit] From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia for **Castiel Novak**

Novak was sworn in as the 45th President on January 20, 2017. The Inauguration marked the commencement of his second term in office, followed by an Inaugural Address at the U.S. Capitol and a Parade on Pennsylvania Avenue. Novak was joined by Winchester and his immediate family, as well as Vice President Joanna Harvelle, her husband, and daughter. Also present to review the Parade were leading government and military members.

Later at the Inaugural Ball, held at the western front of the U.S. Capitol, Novak and Winchester shared the first dance to “To Love Somebody” by Michael Bublé. After their dance, Novak knelt on one knee and proposed to Winchester, who tearfully accepted, effectively making Dean Winchester the nation’s first [First Gentleman](http://i.imgur.com/volyEYW.jpg).

 

  

**November 23, 2017 – The White House, Washington, D.C.**

“And behind that window you see over there is the Oval Office where my husband works.” 

“He’s in there right now?” a voice chirps from the back. 

“Well, he better be!” Dean laughs good-naturedly. “That’s where he said he’d be an hour ago.” He walks ahead for the tour group to follow, bundling his scarf a little more tightly around himself. It’s part of a Thanksgiving at the White House event, spearheaded by Benny, who works for Cas now. He was thrilled when Cas suggested it – since Benny had, in part, left his old job for them – although the amount of posturing that happens between them is admittedly ridiculous from Dean’s standpoint.

One of the kids in front pipes up to ask where Dean’s favorite place is on the grounds, and it’s still surreal to think of this as home, with all its history and majesty. Since mentioning their bedroom might be a tad inappropriate, Dean shares about the Blue Room – his second favorite. 

He’s in the middle of answering more questions when the gasps start cascading throughout their group, quickly explained by Cas’ sudden entrance and his beeline toward Dean to drop a kiss on his cheek. “Are you crashing my tour, Mr. President?” Dean teases as he reaches for Castiel’s hand. “I don’t remember your R.S.V.P.” 

“Someone told me that my husband is leading the tour.” 

Dean rolls eyes but fondly watches on while Cas shakes the hands of everybody on the tour. He’s crouching the entire time to match their eye level and smile at them, and Dean feels like his heart is too big for his chest and his love for his husband too astounding to express. 

“Mr. President,” says a staffer behind Dean, there to make sure the tour runs smoothly. “Do you have any pearls of wisdom to share with our guests?” 

Cas gives it some thought, then, “I’ll hand it to Dean. He tends to be wiser than I am.” 

Dean squeezes Cas’ hand and smiles, “Why, thank you. That’s flattering.” He then pauses to really look at Cas, remembering just how easily he fell in love. Remembers the summer, the years between, finding Cas again and all that came afterward. “If I’ve learned any lessons so far, it’s that Virgil was right. Love does conquer all.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr Masterpost](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/153890773070/first-gentleman-wanted-a-2016-dcbb-written-by) | [Art Masterpost](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/post/153891053201/art-for-first-gentleman-wanted-a-dcbb-by-the)
> 
> Thank you for reading! You can find me at [puppycastiel](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com) on Tumblr ([leeshwrites](http://twitter.com/leeshwrites) on Twitter), and as always, please do leave me your kudos, comments, and love. :)


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